#even with words that mean like 'servant' or 'follower'

[vodika-vibes]

Hey congrats on 650+ followers could I please request a romance regencycinderella type au, where Rex is a prince and has to marry a person of "high standing" but he ends up meeting and falling in love with the reader, who is the servant of the spoiled bratty princess he's supposed to be marrying.

Sorry if this is too much detail.

You Will Be Okay

Summary: You have been the handmaid of Princess Harmony for the majority of your life, your responsibilities include ensuring her clothes are neat, styling her hair, and helping her bathe. It’s only natural that you would join her when she travels to Prince Rex’s palace when it’s time to meet him. The last thing you expect is to catch the eye of the Prince himself.

Pairing: Captain Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 2452

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, but it's not shown

Prompt: Regency AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Once again, this took me a while to get down. And it feels slightly less Cinderella to me, but I hope you like it anyway! Thanks for your request!

It has been three weeks since Princess Harmony, the Princess you serve, arrived at Jaig Palace, home to her betrothed, Prince Rex. Which means, it has been three weeks since you arrived at Jaig Palace.

In the three weeks since you’ve been here, Princess Harmony has thrown several massive temper tantrums, has destroyed five dresses (two of which had been passed down from the Queen Mother), and has verbally abused the staff of Jaig Palace so severely that they refuse to serve her.

At this point, you would sell your right arm, left leg, and your little brother’s body for a break.

But, Princess Harmony seems to be in a good mood today.

A better mood than she’s been in since you left the Cin Palace that is her home. 

You put the final touches on her intricate up-do, pinning some peace lilies into her golden locks, before you step away and bow, “All done, your highness.”

Princess Harmony tilts her head from one side to the other, and then she nods once. “This is adequate. I like the way you have the peace lilies framing my face. Wherever did you manage to find Peace Lilies here?”

“Her Majesty sent some with your luggage, your highness.” you reply.

“Of course she did.” There’s something bitter in Princess Harmony’s voice.

“Is all well, your highness?”

“I’m fine.” She bites out as she waves her hand, “Tell me, Handmaid-” You cringe, in the nearly twenty years you’ve been serving her, she still hasn’t learned your name, “what is on my schedule for the day?”

You blink at the princess, and then turn to pick up the itinerary that had been delivered the night before, “It appears that you have a free day today, your highness. At least, until this evening, when you are scheduled to give a speech.”

“Oh, yes. That.” She stands suddenly and glides away from the vanity, “You are dismissed. I have no need for you today.”

“As you command, your highness.”

“Send in my double when you leave.”

You curtsey deeply, and sweep out of the room before she can change her mind.

Princess Harmony was given a rather large set of apartments when she arrived here three weeks ago. There’s her own room and private bathroom, and then there are two more rooms. A large room for the Princess’ body double, and then a much smaller room that you call your own.

Fiore, Princess Harmony’s double, is sitting in the sitting room with a book in her hand. She is nearly identical to the princess, though her eyes are several shades darker than the Princess’.

“Princess Harmony is asking to see you, Fiore.” You murmur as you walk over to the older woman, and adjust one of the peace lilies in her hair to make sure it’s identical to the Princess’ hair.

“Asking, or demanding?” Fiore asks.

Fiore is, technically, Princess Harmony’s older sister. The King had an affair, resulting in the birth of Fiore, and you know that the older woman resents her spoiled half-sister. She was not a willing body double, it’s something that Fiore has confided in you when she was assigned her position.

“Is it not the same thing?” You ask with a gentle curl of your lips.

Fiore scoffs and smoothly gets to her feet, “Then I had best see what her royal brattiness wants. You should take the day, though.” She adds with a fond smile in your direction, “You’ve been going non-stop since we arrived.”

Personally, you’re of the opinion that Fiore would be a better Queen than Harmony, but it’s not as if anyone cares about your opinion. You offer her a small smile, before you sweep out of the suite of rooms.

Your first free-day in weeks.

You allow your feet to lead you through the, now familiar, halls. Pausing every now and then to speak with some of the guards and other servants. They like you well enough, though you’d have to be blind to not see the pitying looks that they shoot you.

Your feet lead you to the gardens. As you understand it, the Gardens had been the late Queen’s project, and you can tell by looking at the beautiful flower beds, and massive trees, that it had been a labor of love. 

A small smile graces your lips as you walk through the gardens, pausing every now and then to admire some of the plants that you’ve never seen before.

Cin Palace is located far, far to the north. The only plants that grow naturally are coniferous trees, and small shrubs. And the greenhouses back home are dedicated to fruits and vegetables, not flowers.

You allow yourself to wander through the flowers, and vanish into the thicket of trees. The leaves are a wide array of colors, from deep purple, to rich green, to vibrant red. It’s like walking through a kaleidoscope.

You can’t help but think, if this is what it’s like living here, then moving wouldn’t be so bad. Even if it does mean that you’re stuck serving Princess Harmony for the rest of your life.

And then, suddenly, you realize that you’re not alone.

“Oh,” You stop mid-step and flush before curtseying deeply as you avert your eyes from the blonde prince standing in front of you, “Your Highness, my apologies.”

He looks just as surprised to see you as you are to see him, “Ah, there’s no need for that. Just Rex is fine.” He says awkwardly, stepping closer to you and lightly touching your elbow to bring you back to your feet. “You are…Princess Harmony’s handmaiden, aren’t you?”

You straighten and fold your hands, “I am, yes.”

A smile, small and warm, crosses his face and you feel warmth in your chest. He really is very handsome, you weren’t expecting him to be kind too, “I thought I recognized you from your arrival. Though, I haven’t seen you since-?”

“Princess Harmony prefers that I stay out of sight,” You reply honestly, “Plus…” You hesitate and then shake your head, “It’s not important.”

“Please. I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

You duck your head, “Princess Harmony has a…difficult…personality at times.” You finally say, very diplomatically, “The servants that were assigned to her suites have refused to serve her due to how she treated them. So I have been very busy since arriving.”

“I have heard rumors from my staff,” Rex admits, “I thought they were just rumors. Still, I am glad that you managed to come and see the gardens. What do you think?”

“They’re beautiful,” You reply with a bright smile, “I have never seen so many different flowers and plants.”

He answers your smile with one of his own, “Would you like a tour?”

“Truly? You’re not too busy?”

“Today is my free day,” Rex replies, “And I’m happy to show off my mother’s garden.” He moves to the side and motions for you to come stand next to him, “This way, the garden is much larger than people generally see.”

His hand settles, warm and comforting, on your lower back as you fall into step next to him. Rex leads you deeper into the garden, telling you stories of his mother, and of the various plants that she chose to fill her garden.

It’s the start of a, slightly surprising, friendship.

It has been three weeks since the day that  you first met Prince Rex, and has been six weeks since your arrival at Jaig Palace. And, in your opinion, things are going well.

Well. Wellish.

Princess Harmony’s mood plummeted, and no amount of her favorite snacks, books, or songs could bring her back into a more tolerable mood.

She’s since turned her foul temper on you, and on Fiore. 

The first time she struck you indicated a change in your relationship with your princess. And a change in the relationship between Fiore and Harmony.

Fiore refused to allow you to be alone with Harmony, regardless of how Harmony ranted and raved and threatened her. In truth, you’re grateful for the older woman, as her presence made it so that Harmony couldn’t strike you again, no matter how much she might want to.

It also means that you have a lot more free time than you did when you first arrived.

Of course, free time is relative, as you spend the majority of the time trying to prepare for the wedding between Princess Harmony and Prince Rex.

Though, at this point, you’re pretty sure that you’ve spent more time with the groom-to-be than Princess Harmony. In fact, you can’t remember them having a single conversation at all.

And you’re concerned.

Rex is a friend, at least, you think he is. And you’re not overly eager to leave him to Harmony’s wild outbursts. 

“May I ask a personal question?” You ask, late one evening as you watch the fireflies dance around you and Rex. Harmony’s nightly temper tantrum evolved into her throwing a vase at you and Fiore, and so you were encouraged to leave the suite for a couple of hours.

Which led you here, sitting on a blanket, deep in the garden, with Rex sitting across from you.

He’s dressed down, in a loose tunic with the laces untied at his neck, baring more of his chest to you than he’s ever done before, and his trousers are loose and stained with grass. 

He looks amazing. And you have to force yourself not to stare at him, it’s not your place. It’s a shame that your friendship with him has turned into you having a crush on him. 

Rex laughs, “You don’t have to ask permission, cyar’ika.” His grin is teasing, and you make a face at him. He still won’t tell you what that nickname means, though you suppose it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

“...do you want to get married?” You ask slowly, carefully.

He pauses from where he was peeling an orange, and he slowly sets it down on the blanket, “In truth? No. Not to Harmony at least. She’s…incredibly unlikeable.”

“Ah.” You absently smooth your skirt, “I suppose it doesn’t really matter what you want, though. Does it?”

Rex gazes at you for a long moment, “I have to get married. The law is very clear on this.” He pauses, “Of course, the law doesn’t specify who, exactly, I have to marry.”

“I don’t follow.”

“It doesn’t say that I have to marry a princess.” He clarifies, “Just that I have to be wed before I turn 25.”

“I see.” You murmur.

Rex doesn’t say anything for a long moment and then he sighs. You turn your gaze towards his face, and start when he shifts so that he’s sitting close enough that your knees are touching. He reaches out, and for a moment, you think he’s going to press his hands against your face, but he seems to hesitate before reaching down and taking your hands in his. 

“Rex?”

He smiles at you, “I didn’t want to ask, but it’s hard to not notice that you flinch away from Harmony. And it’s even harder to ignore how Fiore seems to hover over your shoulder like you’re her charge. Does Harmony hit you, cyar’ika?”

You nervously lick your lips, “It…only happened one time. And it was my fault, really. I should have known better than-”

“No.” Rex squeezes your hand and his voice is stern enough that your words die on your tongue, “There is no excuse for her hitting you. At all.”

You stare at him, stunned. “Well, yes. Of course.” You offer sheepishly, “But…I’m still her handmaiden and…and…” You trail off, and then squeeze your eyes shut, “You shouldn’t marry her.”

“And what happens then?” Rex asks, his voice gentle.

“We go home, back to Cin Palace.” You say, “And…and nothing changes.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then releases one of your hands. You start when his warm hand presses against your cheek, “If nothing changes for you, then that means you’ll be stuck with an abusive employer.”

“Fiore won’t let her hurt me.” You reply as you open your eyes again. Rex seems closer somehow.

“What if I had a different idea?” He offers, “A better offer. For you and Fiore.”

“I don’t-?”

“Marry me.”

Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that. You blink at him, your jaw dropped, as your train of thought not only screeches to a halt, but also completely derails. “What.”

Not the most eloquent of ways to ask for clarification, but he doesn’t seem offended. In fact, he seems amused.

“Marry me. Become my Queen.”

“But…but I’m a servant-!”

“I don’t care.”

“You should definitely marry a princess-”

“I want to marry someone I love, and I love you.”

You gape at him, dumbly for a moment, “But. You. That’s…”

“Take your time,” Rex teases. He seems confident and relaxed, as though he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on you. 

“You love me?” You ask, your voice tiny.

“Is that so surprising?”

“You hardly know me-”

“I know you’re allergic to grapes, I know you really like the color blue, but your favorite color is hunter green. I know you like dancing, though you’re too embarrassed to actually dance in front of people. I know you’ve always wanted a garden of your own, but have never been permitted one.” He leans in closer, and presses his forehead against yours, “I know you’re afraid of the dark, but you still enjoy watching the stars.”

“I never told you any of that.” You whisper.

“You didn’t have to,” He releases your hand and brings his hand up so that he’s properly cupping your face, “I know you, cyar’ika. I want to marry you. Become my Queen. And I’ll make sure you’ll never be unhappy again.”

“...but-”

“Fiore will be offered a position as your bodyguard if you agree.” Rex promises, “You’ll both be free from Harmony.” He strokes your cheek lightly, “And, even if you don’t want to marry me, you’ll both be offered positions on my staff. You will be free of her one way or another.”

You exhale slowly, “Okay.” You whisper.

He blinks at you, “Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll marry you.”

And then you squeak when his lips press against yours in a deep and passionate kiss. It takes you a moment, but you end up wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him back just as enthusiastically. 

You feel him grin into the kiss, and you can’t help but melt into him.

This might not be what you expected for your life, but you’re not going to complain. After all, this is much, much better.

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #vodika-vibes 650 event #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

[fushipurro]

Let Your Kingdom Call My Name

Chapter 1 - Nightmare

Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, dead dove, AU - heian era, mentions of murder/torture/cannibalism, dubious morality, degradation, sukuna is mean (nothing we can't fix amirite)

☆ Word Count: 2.1k

Sukuna enjoyed many things in life, so long as it could grant him the pleasure.

Killing, eating, women, killing women and then eating them… but waking up one day in the body of his least preferred concubine wasn’t one of those things.

It was that much worse.

A nightmare, and from him, that’s saying something.

The King of Curses awoke after deciding to sleep for the first time in a blue moon. It’s one of the many trivial human needs he despises, and one he foregoes in favor of being productive with his time. But, after a battle with an especially conniving curse ─ one that had the audacity to toy with his mind ─ Sukuna felt the need to shut it off, if only for a night.

When he opened his eyes, Sukuna had expected to see his typical ornate ceiling. Black tiles with gold trimmings and an aureate dragon painted in the center. Only the best for a king. For him.

Instead, his two eyes were met with plain old wooden squares ─ wait, two?

Sukuna raises himself in an instant, looking down at his hands. His lower set of arms are missing, as well as all the black bands and stripes. There are no sharp claws jetting from his hands, and the size is significantly smaller than he’s used to.

He moves the dainty appendages up to his skull to feel for his missing pair of eyes. He curses about how these things could never hope to crush bone into dust, one of his favorite pastimes. Another concerning fact is the hair is different. The length is longer, enough so that he can pull a few strands in front of his eyes to see that they’re an entirely different color from his usual pink.

“What the fuck?” Sukuna curses, taken aback by the blatant feminine voice that follows instead of his rich, velvety tone.

He’s seething with rage now.

Whoever is responsible for this is going to pay with their blood, and he’ll make sure to torture them slowly. He’ll even go as far as to heal them just to prolong their suffering all for his revenge.

The thought alone brings a manic grin to his face.

His amusement, however short-lived, fades when he lifts the covers of his bedding off. The quality is subpar, and the style nothing like his own. Even the robe he wears is cheap, more fitting for a servant. Sukuna is a king, and he requires only the best the world has to offer.

This is far from it.

Whatever room he’s currently in irritates him further, nearly seeing red at this point. It’s more of a storage closet than anything fit for someone of worth to be sleeping in. All it contains is a bedroll and dresser. Repulsive.

He attempts to conjure his cursed energy to dismantle the place, deeming it more suited as kindling. Sukuna flicks his hand forward, but nothing dramatic follows. While this vessel does contain cursed energy, it’s rather lackluster compared to what he’s used to. That is to be expected when talking about Ryomen Sukuna.

“How annoying,” he scoffs.

Sukuna exits the room with both haste and malicious intent.

The good news is ─ he’s still in his shrine, so his body can’t be that far away. The bad news, or rather the infuriating part, is that he’s in the eastern corridor, home to the concubines.

You wouldn’t catch Sukuna dead sleeping here like an emperor would for his harem. His whores will come to himwhen he calls on them, not the other way around. But why is something, or someone, so loathsome doing here of all places in his shrine?

No matter, he’ll figure it out soon enough. His current destination is the temple to the north, where he typically resides.

Getting there however proves difficult.

Sukuna has yet to cross the boundary that separates his palace from the rest of the shrine, but the sheer amount of cursed energy radiating from inside is enough to force him to his knees.

No one brings the King of Curses to the ground like some maggot in the dirt. Whoever this is may as well have already signed their life away with blood as their ink.

He grits his teeth to stand, a familiar copper taste filling his mouth. Every step is a fight in itself given this poor excuse of a vessel his soul is trapped in. Eventually Sukuna reaches the doors to his bedroom, and he opens the door without another moment to lose.

Oh, how his dilemma just became a thousand times worse.

There on his grand, one-of-a-kind bed is himself, or at least a fake version.

It can’t entirely be a fake, as the cursed energy he feels is absolutely his own, but is being poorly restrained, flying off in all directions without a care.

He wasn’t sure until now whether he would see his body like this without his soul present in the proper host. It could’ve been an empty husk for all he cared, so long he can return to it in due time.

What he will admit though, is that it’s a miracle whoever is residing in him can handle his body’s information, assuming they’re strong enough mentally to bear its weight.

Sukuna approaches the bed with a grim expression, looking down at what’s supposed to be him sleeping peacefully away like a baby instead of a king. The next test is seeing their conscious state.

“Wake up!” Sukuna shouts at the fraud who doesn’t budge. He clicks his tongue before wrapping his vessel’s weak, puny fingers around the throat of himself lying there. “I won’t repeat myself you insolent–“

Four red eyes open with a jolt and the energy in the room spikes. It sends the real Sukuna down to his knees like before, this time clutching his stomach and mouth on instinct to avoid hurling from the pressure.

“W-what’s happening?” you stammer, forcing yourself upright. You’re thrown off by the new set of eyes under your control, allowing you to see more than ever before. In doing so, you see that’s not the only thing new when an extra set of familiar arms greets you. “What is this? Why do I look like–” You turn to the women in the room who woke you. “Wait, why are you me!?”

Sukuna looks up with a bloodthirsty scowl. “What sort of trick is this, wench? You have guts to force a king from his own body, but I’ll tear them from you again and again,” he warns, his voice laced with malice.

“A king? No, you’re me!” you protest, pointing at the other you with two right hands, appalled by the sudden words. “I’m not a king!”

“Of course you aren’t,” he retorts.

He looks around for a moment before spotting a mirror atop his dresser. He marches over, snatching it in his hands to look at the reflection.

Sukuna almost forgot about this abhorrent woman living beneath him. Everything he’s seen so far makes complete sense to him.

Of everyone Sukuna could’ve swapped bodies with, why did it have to be you?

He hates you.

Hell, he’s not even sure why he’s kept you around as long as he has, but once he’s back in his body, you will be the first to go, followed by the soul-swapper.

You were given to him as an offering once upon a time, in hopes that it might spare your home village from Sukuna’s path of destruction.

It didn’t, and they were a fool for believing otherwise.

Sukuna wasn’t going to turn away a decently beautiful woman either way, so long as you learn your place and fulfill your duties. Had you shared any of the qualities he enjoys in his other concubines, then maybe ─ just maybe ─ he’d more interested.

As it stands, you’re just a pathetic excuse of a whore who’s only use now will be his eventual dinner. You’ll make an excellent first meal the moment he’s returned to his former self.

In a split-second decision, Sukuna slams the mirror against the floor. Glass shatters, spreading across the ground. Despite the now tiny, insignificant pieces ─ they still reflect the same woman back to his eyes.

“Am I dreaming?” Sukuna hears you mumble, oblivious to his blind rage. He turns on his heel to approach you, glaring all the while.

“Are you that dense?” His voice mocking. “Does this feel anything like a dream to you?”

“You know for being me, you’re quite rude,” you remark, nearly pouting when you meet his gaze.

“Watch your tongue, brat,” he growls. “Don’t think just because you found your way into my body means you can forget your place.”

“Your body?” After a moment your four eyes stretch wide in sudden realization. In the next moment, you’re on your knees, bowing before your true king. “My deepest apologies, my lord!”

Hearing his own voice say such pathetic words makes him want to strangle you with your own hands. “Pick your head up, you damn fool!” Sukuna bellows. Even if he’s unable to cleave you, he can still knock you upside the head. It’s not like these frail hands are capable of hurting his body after all. “Our souls may have swapped, but I will not watch another lower my head.”

“I apologize, my lord.” A vein throbs on his forehead.

He sighs in exasperation, “Do you have any idea why this has happened?”

“I don’t, my lord.”

Sukuna doesn’t sense that you’re lying, but it still isn’t enough to let you off the hook. Not when this whole ordeal has been one thing after another. Someone will be getting punished for this, so all he has to do is wait for…

Knock knock knock

“Enter,” Sukuna answers.

…

“My lord.” Uraume bows. They lift their head and squint in confusion at the scene before them.

Sukuna, sitting on his knees before you, standing at the foot of it with anger written all over you. What brazen behavior coming from a concubine, and one as lowly as you. It’s enough to distract them from the vicious cursed energy flooding from the body of their king.

“Perfect timing. Uraume, I need you to find any information about body swapping techniques,” Sukuna orders from your body, inevitably causing more confusion.

Uraume knows better than to take orders from anyone other than their king, and the concubines are no exception. It’s why they have their own maids, except you, of course. They glance between the pair of you, holding their tongue.

“Uraume,” Sukuna warns, growing impatient. He can’t help but narrow his eyes at the unintentional disobedience of his follower.

“It’s okay,” you tell them, earning another glare from Sukuna, but in this case, it was warranted.

Uraume bows again. “Right away, my lord.” They take their leave from the room right after, leaving behind a cart with this morning’s meal.

Sukuna pinches the bridge of his noise and sighs deeply. Uraume is one thing, but if word gets out that the King of Curses swapped bodies with some pathetic human, he could lose everything he’s fought to claim.

All the lives he’s taken, the villages plundered, the strength he’s gained ─ all of it will be in vain if some whore of his gets his body killed when all he can do is watch.

And as much as he’d rather claw his ─ or your ─ eyeballs out, he needs you to temporarily play the part of the King of Curses. Nothing brings him more pain than having to rely on someone so weak and deserving, it’s unheard of for him.

“Listen up, brat.” Sukuna turns his attention back to you with a piercing gaze. “Until I’m back in my rightful body, you’re going to be doing exactly what I tell you.”

“Yes, my lord.” You bow on instinct again, but he catches you by the jaw in a tight grip. Though… when you’re in the body of Ryomen Sukuna, it’s more a tickle than anything coming from you.

Why must you be so weak?

“What did I just get done telling you?” His lips curl in disdain. “Know this, concubine. There will be a punishment in order if you fail this one simple task.” At the thought of the many ways he can torture you, he starts to laugh wickedly and his expression melts into one of impish delight.

There’s no doubt in his mind you’ll mess something up, you always do, except now he has to give you the chance to prove yourself.

“I won’t go easy on you.”

As if he ever would, anyways.

“Now get dressed, I have a kingdom to rule.”

☆ Notes: wrote this on a whim in a single day because I was inspired by a smau from @ nanaslutt on this trope and my favorite donghua liang bu yi

I’m hoping maybe with shorter chapter lengths I can push it out more often in between my other big fics, but we’ll see! They’ll definitely vary in length, that’s for sure, and I’m never good with keeping to schedules. I’m just happy to write more about Sukuna <333

Title of this story is inspired by Insomnia – Cellar Darling. I was also listening to Adoration – Mortal Love while writing this, another really good song I highly recommend!!!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna x reader #concubine!reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk sukuna #uraume

[yoztromo]

Sunday’s Clothing Analysis

Don’t read if you don’t want to interact with religious stuff that’s like entirely what I’m talking about, slight Penacony spoilers

This is all mostly word vomit and not read over I’m sorry

His Outfit

Sunday’s outfit is referencing the Bible and Christian things just like the rest of the Penacony story. Specifically he looks alot like Jesus Christ and many references to him on his clothing in more ways than one in not so very subtle pattern choices and colors.

Halo

Up first his halo, a not so subtle ode to the crown of thorns Jesus had worn. It has vines and thorns wrapped around the halo as well as eye-like shapes that point into the center of his halo. The crown of thorns was most likely a date palm, its spikes possessing toxins and can sometimes be around 12 inches.

It was worn during his death on the cross and was a mock from Roman soldiers to him. It is also showing how he gave up his heavenly one for a mortal one. It is also repeated many times in the Bible of the way of thorns and thistles being the way of sin.

It is also important in all of this as a halo means holiness as well as an aura or glow of scarcity, the first person commonly drawn with a halo being Jesus.

I would also love to point out that Robin is the only one with a circular halo, the most drawn halo and is drawn on the people most of the time on people close to Jesus. Sunday and Gopher Wood on the other hand have bursting halos, or a more naturalistic version, and not seen in many older arts at all and saved for Jesus.

Vines

With his halo the other places he has vines and thorns are his arms and torso. There is no passage of being wrapped in vines but there is a passage of when Jesus referred to himself as the vine.

John 15:1-17 are very close to what Sunday is as a person. Jesus is calling himself a vine, god his gardener in this passage. That the vine kinda depends on the gardener to help it bear fruit. Then right after calls the people who follow him the branches, that you don’t follow him you are a branch that is snipped off and if you are you stay on. That you should stay on him to bear fruit.

Right after that snip-it it goes into a rant of loving for each other and caring for each other's needs just like his father has taught him. That his father has loved him so he will love you. That no greater love is to lay down someone’s life for another; they are no longer his servants but his friends and to love each other.

With this it can show how that Sunday was in fact groomed by Gopher wood to act a certain way, to be a believer and disciple of The Order rather than The Harmony. That he was taught these ideals of his by gopher wood and he eggs him on as he tells everyone the things that he has taught him when he was young. The entire verse of John 15:13 is almost exactly like his boss fight, his almost ascent to Aeon hood. “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” That he was able to sacrifice himself, even rather than his sister, for the sake of Penacony’s sweet dream.

Stigmatas

I would also like to point out the reference to stigmata on his feet and hands, for those unaware a stigmata is a wound of crucifixion.

The one on his shoes have a pattern of piercing on both the bottom and the top in the middle of a cross while Sunday’s gloves are opened on the top of his hand in the same shape. Both of these places are where Jesus was nailed to the cross.

Fifth wound, Wing Clipping

Those are not all five wounds Jesus had though, as he had another from a spear that is in his chest/torso on the side. At first I wondered if it was the eye in the middle of his chest but I thought it couldn’t be it as it looks like an eye and it is on his side, it is probably part of his Halovian/Seraphim design as Gopher wood as well. I’ll talk more about this later.

So I wondered, could he be hiding another wound or some sort behind his wings? Or are his wings that fifth wound? His wings look as though they are clipped, let alone the one’s on his head are pierced which causes limited movement. They look clipped on his torso because while the right wing has many feathers clearly visible the left wing doesn't and is a noticeable amount shorter than the other. It would also make sense if there was a wound for his wings to be close to his chest, covering it up and making sure his appearance stays the same. Even if there was no wound and no clipping the symbolism of not being able to spread his wings behind his jacket is crazy, almost the same. The piercings on his wings even are symbolic as they are pointed, almost looking like thorns that punctured his ear.

When a bird's wings are clipped it is to help it depend more on its owner and become closer to it, another reason is to limit its motion and to make it safe in the owners care, the last reason is for it to socialize with others.

I can honestly see all of these applying to Sunday with Gopher wood being the one to have done it. With seeing how he has groomed Sunday in the Trailblaze quest I wouldn’t doubt that they were either a form of punishment for him acting out or something he did in the beginning ever since he knew Sunday would be easier to manipulate than Robin.

Rings

The rings on Sunday’s hand also have meaning, they are on the thumb and index finger of his right hand. The thumb ring represents several things and it can depend on the person but it represents independence, wealth, and power as well as authority. For the index finger, in some cultures that is the finger the wedding ring is worn, though it’s most likely not. The ring on his index finger means confidence and leadership.

Seraphim, Wings

Now that I have talked about almost everything else about him it's time to talk about all of the details about him that make him a seraphim. A quick lesson on what a seraphim is first. Seraph or Seraphim means ardor or fire. There are 9 choirs of angels, each getting closer and closer to God and praising him more and are the caretakers of his throne. A seraphim is the closest to God, being one of the three in the first triad(also known as throne) to adore and contemplate God directly.

A seraphim is said to be beings of pure light but is drawn as humans with six pairs of wings and many eyes, they enjoy direct communication with god and praise holy, holy, holy to him.

Now let’s look at some parts of his designs that make him look like a seraphim. Let’s start with his wings, Seraphim's are supposed to have six wings but he only has four? Just looking, physically he only has two sets, one on his torso and the other on his head, but you could say he has styled his hair to be the other two wings. There could be a chance that like Robin he has another pair of wings that he hides but we have yet to see them so we don’t know.

A part of me wants Robin to be a Seraphim as well as my mind is but as angel hiarch placements are earned he might be very high, either than they are the same place because they are Gopher Woods adopted children, but we just don’t know.

Seraphim, Eye/Eyes

Another big important part of a Seraphim is their large eye in the center of its wings, there happens to be one large eye in the center of his chest just like a seraphim. Though that isn’t the only eye in his clothing it’s the most prominent one, it’s especially important as some art only has one eye in the middle rather than a bunch of eyes.

He has SO MANY eyes over him it’s insane. They are the watchers of God's throne after all. His eyes range from his acsessorys to his normal clothing, there are literally so many eyes. (I didn’t add an image of the ones on the feet as I believe they are stigmata’s)

His back

Sunday has some sort of either symbol or emblem on his back, either that or it’s just part of his design just because. I feel like there could be two possibilities behind this piece but I’m not sure which one it could be.

The first possibility is to align with Robin, to look like he does. To have the charmony dove soaring(the gold part) over the sky (the halo/sun part) even if it may die it is free.

The second one I feel like could be more plausible is another way to see, like he is under Gopher woods control. With the halo being Sunday’s beta halo as well as Gopher woods. It could show how his actions every stop of the way have been led by Gopher Wood, that he is stuck inside of the Dreammasters cage.

Very small section I’m not going to even label it but I just want to say that I believe his metal looking thing of his is supposed to be his either rank in the family, or something given to him for being a bronze melodia.

Colors

Sunday is a mix of colors but is mostly blue, white, gold, and purple. And the liturgical year of the church has colors around it. I am going to focus on Blue and gold as there is much more blue in his design then the rest and gold as it also plays along in it. I would include purple but it isn’t show up a lot as well as it overlaps with these two colors already.

The only holiday to have blue in it is Advent. The leading up and arrival to Jesus’s arrival on earth. It is an invitation to join in the anticipation for him to reunite heaven and earth once and for all. To me that sounds a lot like when Sunday tried to make the cage, to lock everyone in the Asdana system in a dream, when they couldn’t tell reality from a dream.

When gold is around (often paired with white) it is the Christmas season as well as Easter. It is the birth of Jesus a holy day, as well as when Jesus resurrected and came back from the dead. Of course we don’t know if Sunday is going to come back yet and resurrect (I think he will) but he has become lost and has gone missing.

An honorable mention of purple is used during Lent as well as Advent. Lent is the time when Jesus spent 40 days fasting to resist the temptations of the devil. I don’t personally see anything in the story that can correlate to this.

Name

Sunday is clearly a day of the week but it is the most holy day as it is when God rested after creating the earth. I don't have much to say. I just needed to mention this as he makes references to the creation story himself.

Please say something if I got something wrong or you want to add anything, I would love to hear. I will probably make an analysis on his story but it’s going to take a while as this itself took a while, so it’s going to take a while as well, probably longer. So smash that like button and subscribe for more content (I’m probably going to disappear for a while until I decide to randomly come back with other half).

#honkai star rail #sunday #sunday hsr #sunday honkai star rail #save me from this analysis hell #I am going to squash Sunday aggressively /pos #analysis #clothing analysis #Sunday from the hit game honkai Star Rail #not spell checked #word vomit

[lovelikealcoholic]

Can you make a Luka or any Alien Stage character with a reader who they see as their God? Like they admire everything about them, their looks,personality and voice.

WORSHIP, TO ADORE

e

You could live your whole life unaware of his obsession with you, sure you feel like his stare and favoritism but that's completely normal, right?

Whenever you look at him he feels himself tense up, he feels warm, tingly but outside its just a blank stare back.

When you talk, he makes sure to listen to every word and every possible meaning. If he ever zones out when you talk because he's thinking of you (there's no other thought in his head), he'd never forgive himself.

He wants to always be by your side and hold you close. (hugs are very common, mostly from behind)

In his room, he'd start at his roof and think of everything you said, how you looked, and your small actions. After a bit, he frowned before leaving to visit you.

You open the door for your owner and are shocked to see him there with a cold smile and closed eyes as he lets himself in. You panic, but luckily, your owner really likes him.

You follow him to your room, and before you can ask why he's here, he pushes flowers or jewels in your face because you deserve the world.

He then brings you to your bed and is on top of you, just staring, observing every detail even if he knew them like the back of his hand.

...

Everything he does is for you. If you ever sung against him he'll bring you both down but that's okay because he'll be able to serve you even in the after life.

...

he whispers to you what he would do for you or how perfect you are. He doesn't want you to be anyone else's side but him.

A god needs a servant, but that servant is also a god, yes? You're perfect for him

Theres no one else for you but him

He probably has many things that were yours in his room, many pictures too....

#alien stage x reader #alien stage #alnst luka

[daysofmoron]

Okay, by this point I'm tired

A little bit of my thoughts on some situation, that one, by my surprise, that is still going and i see it like some hell of the ride

My discussion going to take places around one person /I'm not going to name them/

I met this person online while drawing in magma, and i thought/and still think/ about them as a fun to talk to and draw with

Let's be honest - we drew some NSFW stuff /in closed magma sessions/

At some point they revealed that they’re turning 18 and not 19.

After this everyone suddenly went into rampage mode/again, this is how i see the situation, you can have your own opinion on that/

Some people, like me, didn't care about their age, if they're fun to communicate with, I don't really think about how old they are

But other audience...well, some said that they're just disappointed, and i understand, they have their own reasons

But there were people who started anonymously or even openly harass this person

Let's be honest - nobody is going to sue you

You didn't know their age when you interacted with them. The fact that they were hiding their real age is their responsibility, not yours

Second of all - once they will turn 18 nobody is going to care or call the police. As if police would want to get involved in something like this

Okay, now to the point

On insta some other day i saw a couple of people posting in their stories "don't talk to this person" and sharing this person’s account

By this point i was so tired of seeing all of this happening, and I don't want people harassing one person because of one mistake they made, and, again, they admitted they were wrong, they’re already paying the price. Of course this doesn't mean that people will suddenly forgive them, but again, does this age stuff really matter when you just chatting?...

Anyway, i texted one person that posted this on insta, expressing my opinion that they shouldn't probably share this person's account, because let's be real, it can encourage more harassment, it even looks like harassment when you post stuff like this with some rude comment about this person

They replied to me that they weren't trying to harass anyone, just wanted to make sure that other people won't get involved in some weird stuff this person causing

. . .

What?

I then saw that they also shared in the story that they have proofs

I asked for these proofs, they send me some screenshots of conversation with another person, who told that the person this whole situation is about not only hid their true age

Is also a t-cest shipper...

//a VERY heavy sigh//

I'm sorry...wHaT?

In this message i saw they were writing about this person following the artist that loves drawing t-cest, not only turtles, but April, Casey Jr and etc and etc

. . .

So like, we can't now like just the drawing style of artist? If they have some strange thing that we don't agree with, we should just ban this person

I still don't see people leaving, for example, fnaf fandom because creator hates lgbt

I still don't see people leaving the fandom of attack on titans because it’s chief editor killed his wife

And i still don't see people leaving hazbin hotel fandom knowing how shady vivziepop has been throughout many years, accused in drawing ped**hilia and z**philia

And wow, people still follow these fandoms and people just because they like what they’re doing.

They don't need to follow artist's ideas or thoughts just to like what they draw or make

And, somehow, we came to a point where the person this post is about is accused in being a t-cest artist basically without proof. Just because someone somewhere told something about that they think they saw. Just baseless words.

How about if I tell you that I am a huge unicorn with rainbow hair and i live in a big castle with butterflies as my servants –

Do you believe it without any photo proof? No, I don’t think so.

I’ve been drawing with them for months. I never saw anything remotely close to anything they’ve been accused in.

I follow their every account I know of.

And again, i didn't see any of this stuff -

I now think, that people are trying to make this person to be seen by others as a black sheep.

And now, I even think about stopping to interact with anyone in ROTTMNT fandom.

Why? Well because of people’s hypocrisy and egoism, how easy they’re ready to give up and turn their backs on a person because of one mistake.

Did the story of Alek Holowka didn’t teach us anything? Or recent story with Ed Piskor? Are you really forgetting that you’re talking about and with a real human beings? Or you just simply don’t care?

I'm getting sick of this -

P.S. again, this is my opinion on things, you can have your own thoughts on the situation

#some thoughts

[vagabond-umlaut]

tryst, too tempest

Icarus fell for loving the Sun.

You will, for loving your lover.

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; 1.1k wc; comprises of elements inspired by the tale of 'hades and persephone' & 'fall of icarus'; warning: sukuna is sukuna, so expect the expected [mentions of violence, murder, cannibalism]; warning 2.0: the reader is not very keen to leave or not love her husband; uraume is the BEST WINGPERSON none of you two ever deserved but still got; FLUFF & ANGST & A MADLY DEVOTED LOVE YOU AND SUKUNA FEEL FOR EACH OTHER

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' – same universe as the work 'six seeds, like rubies...' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Foul winds howl through the land, the first year of your life as one Ryomen Sukuna's wife.

Servants cower before you the moment your shadow falls within their field of vision, yet their gaze stays steeped in pity and envy the entire time it remains trained on your feet. Grocers mumble to one another, eyes looking away when you move to look at the things in their shops. Even the very flora and fauna, you loved so much growing up, writing poems on them from the day you knew how to pen a poem– even the same flora and fauna feels so foreign to you—

"You do realize your importance to Master, don't you?"

Uraume's quiet question floats in through your thoughts, much akin a gentle breeze creating small ripples over the water surface. You smile. "Given how I haven't been eaten by him or sent to be murdered by his subordinate curses, I think I do."

Emotion, too similar to humor, flits across the mien of your husband's loyal follower — you decide not to think much of it. Too many days of having only them as someone to speak to, outside of requesting for a second serving of the soup or asking for the cost of yukata, has led to you imagining a smile on a person who is famous for their poker face. Shaking your head, you return to your poems, the quill fluttering over the roll of parchment you found lying at the breakfast today morning, and let out a content sigh — only for your peace of mind to be broken by the bursting of a guard into the garden, appearing too terrorstruck to utter a single coherent word.

It takes you nothing save one glance, moving from him to Uraume to your ink-stained fingers, before you find yourself keeping the papers on the ground beside and rising, feet breaking into a hasty giddy run down the corridors of the palace to the throne room where, certainly enough–

"I was under the impression you've run away in the extra while I spent sleeping, wife."

The world around you comes to a dead stop as the visage of Sukuna comes into your line of sight; you feel your heart skip two beats then begin a thundering rhythm against your ribcage.

Four years ago, if someone were to tell you there is someone who is going to free you from the gilded cage you were forced to call 'home', is going to share with you his name and is going to be the reason you will ponder the meaning of love, you would have given them a second of your time before walking away with a polite excuse.

One year before, if someone were to tell you there is someone who is going to free you from the gilded cage you were forced to call 'home', is going to share with you his name and is going to be the reason you will ponder the meaning of love, you would have huffed a quiet laugh. The first two have already come to pass (with too many lives lost and too many lives threatened) — yet the very last prediction? You would have considered it to be highly improbable, if not outright impossible.

Yet, now, if someone were to tell you the same three things, you think you wouldn't have shown much of a reaction. You would have simply turned to that 'someone' mentioned in the prediction, and gazed and gazed and gazed–

"I left the roll of parchment you bought for Mistress at the breakfast table, just as you asked, Master," Uraume's voice cuts your thoughts into half and you twist to catch them offer you both a very deep bow before hurrying out, to the left towards the kitchen, four baskets full of radishes in their arms.

You look back at your husband, only to find him seated stiffly on his throne, eyes landing anywhere but you. Stifling a giggle, you tilt your head to the side.

"Why do you act so embarrassed, my king?" you ask, stepping a timid step towards him, then another. Gleaming ruby eyes dart to your face then to your approaching feet. Something tingles through your veins. Climbing the stairs leading to him, you hum, smiling, "I don't think it's embarrassing – quite the opposite, in fact. To me, giving one's wife a thoughtful gift as that... it seems quite adorable to me."

"Be careful of your words, woman," the King of Curses growls, rising and taking a large menacing step in your direction; your smile grows intentionally too innocent, which does apparently nothing to quell his increasing fury: the precise outcome you've been wishing so fervently for.

He pulls you by the waist, flush to himself and lowers his lips close to yours, tantalizingly so. He smells very strongly of those bath salts you bought from a travelling merchant three moons back; faintly of blood and death, of the priest he diced last night after dinner — you wonder if you're worthy to be called a human, after finding the curse you have sworn yourself to forever, so terribly dear despite these.

Certainly not — but you reckon you're too far gone to care anyways, so you stop wondering such things – and lift yourself on your tiptoes to brush your lips with your husband's, then pull away a touch, words leaving your lips in a breathy whisper.

"What if I'm not careful with my words? What will you do then, hm? Will you devour me like the monster everyone says you are? Or, will you throw me away like everyone warns me you will one day– when you find someone prettier, smarter, better than me, huh?"

Two moments pass in pin-drop silence between the two of you.

Barking a noisy guffaw, Sukuna weaves his fingers through your hair, still damp from the bath you took a short time ago, and plants a deep kiss to your lips. Then parts his lips from yours, although a mere hair's breadth away, and grins, features teeming with that exotic species of malevolence you never saw yourself regarding to be charming.

Until your gaze met with his, one fated evening, that is.

Your nails dig crescents into the broad muscles of his shoulders.

Your lover's grin sharpens. "Let time tell the tale— yes, my queen?"

The next morning, you find a dozen or so heads waiting for you at the breakfast table, severed by a neat slice at the root of their neck– eyes and mouths which once looked down on your wedding with the King, frozen forever now in a scream of terror.

Forsaking the wonted theme of nature, you decide to pen a poem on scathing, soothing love, instead.

or... everyone: your husband is a despicable monster!!! you: uh-huh everyone: he might leave you for someone better!!! you: uh-huh everyone: you better not stay in this union anymore. you: nuh-nuh. i'm so gonna stay and love and fuck my hubby <3

▸ masterlist

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #trueform!sukuna #true form sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #jjk fluff #jjk angst #sukuna drabble #sukuna imagine #sukuna fic #jjk drabbles #jjk imagines #jjk fics #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kit posts 📝

[coryosbaby]

—“ʙᴀʙʏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ’ʟʟ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴜɴɴʏ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ’ᴍ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ʙᴀʙʏ, ʜᴏɴᴇʏ !”

♡ content warning . cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, squirting, servant! reader, dom munch Coryo my beloved <3

Your life begins to escalate one day when you come into Coriolanus Snow’s office.

You aren’t new to the capital, most definitely not, but you’re new to him. He’s just as handsome as all your coworkers had talked about— and just as strict. The moment you walk through the doors and introduce yourself as his new maid, he’s already barking orders and giving you a list of things to do. Not before his eyes wonder over your thighs, tits, mouth— but you don’t notice that. No, of course you don’t. You’re a shy, timid little thing….almost like a bunny.

Maybe that’s why Coriolanus names you that.

Members of the capital, no matter how much privilege, can’t exactly rename their workers. But it seems that Coriolanus has. Because no matter what, that’s what your name seems to be from now on— Bunny. When you need to fix him his meals, when you clean up the clothes littering his room or the empty wine bottles on his table, there he is.

“Good job, bunny.”

“Such a good girl, bunny.”

“Thank you, bunny. C’mere, why don’t you have some wine with me?”

And that statement itself is what leads to this particular night: you’re sitting across from Coriolanus, your feet nervously tapping against the wooden floor, taking small, small sips out of the expensive wine glass he had passed to you. You don’t quite understand why he is offering this, but what you don’t know is that you’ve enamored him. Your hard work, your perfect resilience at following his orders. You are everything Lucy Gray never was: compliant. But Coriolanus never felt this strongly about Lucy. No, not really. She was a pawn, a way to work his way up to the top. But you caught him by surprise.

His blonde curls are golden in the lamp light, and he’s undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. You try not to drool at the sight of his tanned chest peeking out of the fabric or the way his thick, muscle-ey thighs spread simultaneously as he speaks to you.

“—but as I was saying. He’s quite ridiculous. He’s completely unintelligent, weak minded, and—“

He stalls, watching your small, shy smile. He knows you have no idea who he’s talking about, even though he’s been going on this rant about another business partner for the past twenty minutes. He clears his throat.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about these things with… a maid.”

He doesn’t say it in the sense that he’s disgusted. He merely seems to be choosing his words carefully. You shrug meekly, trying not to upset him.

“I don’t mind, sir,” you say, twiddling your fingers. “In fact.. I think I enjoy it. If you don’t mind me saying so.”

How sweet.

Coriolanus’ eyes thread through with a rather playful look, and he takes another sip of his wine as he takes sight of your almost see through tights.

“I told you, Y/N. Don’t call me sir.”

Your eyes widen a bit, in fear of displeasing him. You set your glass down shakily.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“

“I’m kidding. Lighten up, Bunny, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You let out a small, awkward chuckle along with him as he utters the words, anxiety coursing through you. You watch as his finger traces the rim of his wine glass. He looks up at you with those familiar icy blue eyes, his smile suddenly fading, and something dark flashes over him as he locks you in with his gaze.

“Unless you want me to.”

Your pouty lips part, a shiver running down your spine. He’s looking at you with something you can’t quite place— is it anger? Intrigue?

Or maybe, perhaps, possession?

You let out a small huff of laughter, setting your glass down and getting up from the table.

“It’s been amazing talking with you, sir—“

“Coriolanus.”

“C-Coriolanus. Yes. But it is quite late. I think I should be getting back to my quarters…”

You attempt to brush past him, but his fingers grab your wrist and he pulls you in front of him.

“You don’t really want to stay there, do you?” He says, his lips turning into a thin line. “I know how uncomfortable your bed must be.”

“It’s fine, really! I’m thankful enough to be staying in the capital..” your face floods with heat. “And… also thankful to be working for someone as incredible as you.”

Coriolanus doesn’t say anything. He just gives you this look, his expression amused but also intrigued. His thumb still strokes your wrist in gentle circles.

“Why don’t you stay here in my room tonight, then?” He suggests softly. “I can give you some clothes. I don’t mind sharing.”

If you’re being honest, the thought of going back to your quarters and surrounding yourself with all the other servant girls makes you want to throw up. And besides, Coriolanus is a superior. It’s not like you can say no to him.

“Thank you so much,” you sigh out. “I’ll stay out of your way for the rest of the night, I promise.”

You don’t even realize how tall the man really is until he lifts himself up from his seat. He lets go of your wrist, and you put both hands behind your back as he towers over you.

“No need to thank me,” He says, his fingers brushing up against your cheek and pushing a stray strand of hair out of the way. “You’re an amazing worker.”

His thumb brushes against your chin, then up to your bottom lip. He pulls the plump skin down and watches it snap back against your teeth.

“So obedient..” he whispers, and you can feel something begin to tingle on your lower half.

He breathes heavy now, and you can see him leaning in. You know what kissing is, but he can’t possibly be trying to kiss you right now.

…right?

Wrong. He grabs your face with both hands and presses his mouth to yours. It’s rough, but it’s slow and it’s passionate. He kisses you like you’re made of sunlight. He kisses you like he doesn’t want to let you go.

Or at least, that’s how you perceive it.

Gentleness gives way to hunger, something you’ve grown used to but not when it’s as strong as this. You can’t help but wrap your arms around Coriolanus’ neck as his tongue probes at your mouth. You let him in, timid but desperate to feel any part of him inside of you. His big hands move to your waist, gripping the skin harshly as he turns your back away from the table and towards his bed. Fastened in red silk and fine embroidery, it’s soft when he pushes your body down onto it. He pulls away as he looks down at you. He makes sure to keep his eyes on yours as his fingers slide underneath the hem of your skirt. You’re almost frozen, awkward and, although you want this, scared. Coriolanus moves moves his fingers over your underwear, brushing against your clit.

“You’ve never done this before,” he mutters against your ear. “Have you, little bunny?”

You whine, bucking your hips up into his touch.

“Coryo.”

Coryo. Coriolanus’ cock kicks, harder than it was before if possible.

“Answer me.” He demands, pausing his movements on your cunt.

“No,” you cry. “No sir, I haven’t.”

He groans, patience wavering as he finally slips his fingers underneath the crotch of your underwear and brushes against your bare pussy. He presses down onto your clit with the soft pads of his fingers and rubs tight little circles onto the bundle of nerves. You gasp, your nails digging into the sheets below you. Your legs spread on their own accord and your thighs lift up, giving Coriolanus more access. He smiles at your neediness, watching as you begin to fall apart already.

“So pretty,” Coriolanus coos. With his non stopping stimulation to your clit you can already feel yourself getting close. “After you cum from this I think I’ll taste this pretty cunt. How about that, angel?”

“Wan’ it so bad,” you whimper. Your legs attempt to squeeze coriolanus’ hand but he pulls them back apart harshly. “Oh, please sir! I wanna cum…”

“And you will. Just keep whining like that baby, keep making those little noises for me.”

And when you cum the first time it’s like seeing stars, Coriolanus’ palm grinding right up against your achy clit, your legs shaking. It’s perfect. But nothing can compare to this next moment: Coriolanus’ cock hanging thick and heavy between his legs, his clothes and yours now discarded, as he prods at your soaked entrance with his tongue. He swirls the wet muscle around your hole, quick to slip the tip just barely inside. You shake, your hand gripping his golden curls, and you wonder how you have such a privilege to have the upcoming president of panem nestled between your thighs.

He licks up your slick, pulling back with a groan.

“You taste so good, baby.”

His tongue pushes back in, ravaging your cunt with his mouth and grinding his cock against the surface of the bedsheets. You mewl, your eyes rolling back. Coriolanus’ tongue moves up to your swollen clit for a moment, and he pulls away again— you’re now realizing that it’s purposeful. He’s doing it to tease you.

He takes in sight of your pussy, plump and swollen, the curly hair at the top of your mound absolutely adorable to him. He uses his thumbs to spread apart your lips, your hole stretching out and exposing your insides to him. He watches as it clenches desperately, all small and tight, and he can’t wait to stick his cock in there. With a deep shaky breath he breathes in your cunt and dives back into you. Your legs try to close around his head, but his big hands grip your thighs and pull them back apart. When you manage to keep them open he grabs your flailing hands and holds them, an oddly sweet gesture that he himself didn’t even expect to do. He presses the small things against your belly, his jaw working harder than the people of the districts to get you to cum.

“Coryo,” you whimper, when his lips wrap around your clit again. “Im gonna cum on your mouth, ‘m gonna cum all over it—“

And hearing these words makes Coriolanus hums, his finger moving up to your hole and slipping inside. He wastes no time, fingering your hole intensely as you get closer and closer to your high. And with one last flick to your clit, you reach it.

Your body freezes, ecstasy flooding through you, your vision giving out. Your first orgasm was good, but it could never compare to this. No, this was something different. Your pussy begins to squirt slick all over Coriolanus’ mouth, his chin, the sheets. Coryo lets out a desperately loud moan, his tongue lapping up all over your release vigorously, his eyes rolling back when he himself cums against the sheets.

What a brilliant capital citizen, cumming so quick like that at the taste of a servant’s cunt. But he can’t find time to think about the humiliation— he’s too busy devouring you, and when he does pull away your fucked out face distracts him. He moves up your body, his cum dragging a sticky line against your leg, thighs, tummy. He kisses you, chin dripping in slick and his cock kicking against him once again. His hands take hold of your legs, a fucked out haze taking over your brain as you become limp in his grasp.

“Turn over,” he demands, desperate. “Turn over now, bunny.”

And with enough energy to spare, you turn onto your stomach and present your ass to him like a bitch in heat. His cock, now limp but so help him if he isn’t going to get it up and fuck you, rubs up against your small entrance. And when he pushes in, giving you all you’ve wanted for months and more, you let him take your innocence like the obedient girl you are.

#Coriolanus snow #Coriolanus snow x reader #Coriolanus snow x fem! reader #Coriolanus snow smut #Coriolanus snow fanfic #tbosas #the ballad of songs and snakes #the ballad of songs and snakes fanfic #thg #the hunger games #hunger games #thg fanfic #hunger games fanfic #the hunger games fanfic #Tom blyth

[screeching-bunny]

may i request some yan!butler/maid hcs? ur fics/hcs r like my lifeline ALSO love love the name Ligma (srry for the poor grammar, english is my first language/hj)

Yandere! Butler Hcs

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: LIGMA BALLZ. Anyways thanks for liking my name it’s so fucking awesome isn’t it?

🌟 Yandere! Butler who’s a year older than you and has been serving you ever since your teenage years. He’s dedicated and willing to spend the rest of his life serving you as long as it means being by your side forever. He first becomes enamored by you when you happen to come by the shop he was working at the time. He was enchanted by you and after finding out that you were a noble, he began grooming himself in order to be the perfect servant for you. When the position of being an attendant opened up in your manor, he quickly signed up for it. Yandere! Butler made sure to perform his duties as perfectly and diligently as possible while in that position. It was all to ensure that he would be promoted to be personal butler.

🌟 Yandere! Butler was not able to communicate with you when he was first hired to your manor due to being too low of a rank. He could only stare at you longingly from afar and wish that he could be closer to you. Yandere! Butler during this time period would discreetly follow you around wherever you went. Although he wasn’t allowed to talk to you, he still wanted to feel like he was a part of your life, like some secret protector. While doing this he’s definitely stolen a few of your possessions and stored them for his own personal use.

🌟 Yandere! Butler is so enthralled when he finally gets promoted to being your butler. Finally!!! After all these years he can finally talk and touch his beloved person! He’s so excited that he can’t stop shaking with joy when he hears the news. Every waking moment of his life from this point in time will belong to you and only you. He is willing to do anything you ask of him. No matter how small or difficult the task is, he will make sure to complete it as if his life depended on it. As long as it gets you to look and notice him then it is all worth it.

🌟 Yandere! Butler is only loyal towards you. He is not willing to take orders from anyone but you, even if it’s from your own family members. How dare they try to take away his time and thoughts of you away from him? Have they no shame?! Yandere! Butler would definitely be willing to fight anyone who dares to insult you. He doesn’t care if they are young or elderly, his hands are rated E for everyone. His love language is words of affection, so get ready to hear a barrage of compliments every waking moment of your life. Even when you’re not around, he’s still singing praises about you much to the displeasure of literally everyone else.

Yandere! Butler: “Did you see them today! I swear they get more dashing every time I see them. I wonder if they’ll let me touch their–”

Random Maid: (crying) “PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SHUT UP!!! IT’S BEEN TWO HOURS!!!”

🌟 Yandere! Butler is in charge of your everyday routine. He’s the one planning all of your meals and makes them personally. He will get upset if anyone but him makes you food because he makes sure to plan it perfectly in order to fit your nutritional needs. He makes sure to take care of you as if you were porcelain glass. His movements with you are light and delicate almost as if he were scared that you would break if he were ever too rough with you. He loves to hear you talk about your day and ramble on about meaningless things. It’s somewhat therapeutic to him and it’s like listening to an asmr podcast in his eyes. He takes in everything that you say and a majority of times gives good advice when you need it. If you ever fall in love, never tell him. He will either gut that person alive or give you the worst possible love advice you have ever heard.

“This guy I met at the bakery was super attractive. How do you think I should approach him?”

Yandere! Butler: (screaming on the inside) “You should tell him that he’s gross. I heard nowadays guys find it attractive when people play hard to get.”

🌟 Yandere! Butler legitimately thinks that you are the most perfect person in the universe and that no one deserves you, including himself. He doesn’t care that you may not ever love him, just allow him to stay by your side all of eternity and he’ll be happy. You could tear him apart or take everything he owns and he’d still be loyal toward you. When he signed that contract, he did not only just promise to be your butler but also made a heartfelt vow that everything he does will be for your greater good. He loves the look of a smile on your face and would do anything to keep it there. Murder is not beneath him, if anyone dares to make you cry then he won’t hold back. Whether it be poison, decapitation, drowning, and etc. He’s willing to do it for you, all in the name of love.

🌟 Yandere! Butler takes care of any task that you deem stressful and overwhelmed by. If he sees any type of distraught look on your face he is taking over. Has that business deal been causing you to lose sleep? Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, he’ll make sure to handle everything. Are you getting a migraine while doing some paperwork? Well then, wait right there as he brews you some tea and he’ll get right in on working on it. If he ever sees you sneeze and sniffle then he is going straight mama bear mode. He’ll force you to stay in bed even if you aren't really sick and he won’t listen to any of your protests. No job is a headache to him when it involves you in the picture. So why don’t you just sit back and relax so that he can just take care of you.

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yandere butler

[sansaorgana]

— DAMAGED GOODS

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Rabban/Harkonnen!OC

SUMMARY — The servants have been telling Baron Harkonnen many times before that the relationship between his young heir and his twin sister is close. Very close. Too close. The Baron only chuckles at that. He couldn’t care less, as long as Feyd-Rautha is a warrior he wants him to be and his sister remains out of his sight.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The Reader is a Rabban/Harkonnen. I've described some of her looks – her skin is pale but not because she is *white* but because they're all pale (due to the pollution and lack of normal sunlight I guess). She has hair but it's white. I didn't describe the structure of her hair or anything and the colour is caused by the lack of pigment. Her facial features are not described in any way. Oh, and she has black teeth, too... 😁 It will be explained in the fic. I tried to make it an x Reader fic but, yeah, quite a lot about her looks is described. On the other hand, I hope it's understandable since she's Feyd's twin. I am very happy that I received this request because I've been itching to write something like that for a long time. 🤍

WARNINGS — INCEST, SMUT, non/dub-con, breeding

WORD COUNT — 6,610

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DAMAGED GOODS

Baron Harkonnen was ready to leave Lankiveil with his two nephews – small Feyd-Rautha in one of the female servants’ arms and teenage Glossu on whose shoulder The Baron was keeping his hand on. He didn’t have any heirs of his own so one day he’d name one of the boys his Na-Baron and give them his Harkonnen surname.

They nearly reached the ship when one of the female servants of Lankiveil ran up to them with a small bundle in her arms.

“My Lord,” she called out and The Baron turned around, irritated. The woman was terrified of him but she still had her duties. “What about the girl, my Lord?” She asked.

The Baron squinted his eyes at the child in her arms. Feyd-Rautha’s twin sister (Y/N) Rabban – he had no use for her.

“Give her to the Bene Gesserit or kill her, I do not care,” he commented as Glossu’s muscles stiffened under his uncle’s touch.

“She is my sister,” his eyes widened at those words. “Please, let her come with us.”

“You will soon realise that women on Giedi Prime hold no significance. A girl…” Baron Vladimir winced. “I do not wish to raise her. She will be a burden.”

“Then I will raise her. I will take care of her,” Glossu pleaded. “And one day you will find her a match, someone to marry to create a powerful alliance. She will be useful,” he kept convincing.

The Baron wanted to be feared even amongst his family members. But he didn’t want to be hated by his older nephew from the first day. Irritated, he sighed and waved his hand at the maid.

“Fine, I shall take her,” he sighed.

Hesitantly, the maid handed the child to Glossu Rabban as his uncle gave him a scolding look.

“You’re responsible for her now,” he reminded.

“She is my sister. Her place is with me and Feyd,” Rabban nodded.

About this one thing he was stubborn and about this one thing he would fight even his own uncle. Baron Vladimir decided it would be for the best to let the boy have it his way.

(Y/N) and Feyd were raised differently – he was raised to be a strong warrior and his uncle’s pet. Relentless in combat, obedient to his Master, an enjoyer of pain. Inflicting it on others but also the pain being inflicted upon him. Psychotic and murderous. His twin sister was kept away from such an environment by her older brother. He wanted her to become a grand lady. Of course Glossu Rabban had no idea about women’s education but he made sure that his little sister had dozens of tutors. The smarter and more courteous she was, the easier it would be to sell her in a marriage union one day. It didn’t mean she was easy to manage. Ever since she was a little girl, she would cause trouble by following her twin brother everywhere and wanting to be as mischievous as him. He was given the Harkonnen surname and the title of na-baron. She was just Countess (Y/N) Rabban. Many thought she was actually Glossu Rabban’s daughter. Despite being raised differently, her and Feyd were inseparable.

They were not identical twins – she was a splitting image of her mother while he remained a mix of both parents. He was born bald like most of The Harkonnens, she was lucky to keep her hair even though it lacked pigment and was snowy white. The only thing in common they had was their sickly pale Harkonnen skin… and their blood.

The servants had been telling The Baron many times before that the relationship between his young heir and his sister was close. Very close. Too close. The Baron would only chuckle at that. He couldn’t care less, as long as Feyd-Rautha was a warrior he wanted him to be and his sister remained out of his sight and out of big trouble that would require him to intervene.

(Y/N)’s chambers were connected to Feyd’s with the tall, black doors. In fact, they resided in the chambers of The Baron and The Baroness Harkonnen. These chambers had not been used in many years before Feyd was given them by his uncle in his teenage years. It was only natural that (Y/N) followed to the room attached to his. But most mornings, the servants would not find her in her bed. She was being found in her brother’s embrace, their legs intertwined, her hands wrapped around his muscular chest. As if they were still two embryos in their mother’s womb.

She could swear, she could feel pain when he was experiencing it. And out of them two, only he enjoyed it. It brought her no pleasure to see his scars from their uncle’s punishments. She would kiss them all better, every thin line of scarred flesh upon his back would be soothed with her lips. She loved to watch him train, following him around like a puppy at first but then she grew to be a fine woman herself and she no longer gave such innocent energy. All the years of trying to be invisible for her uncle had taught her how to slither around the fortress like a snake; always observant, always on guard, always quiet and unnoticeable. 

(Y/N) focused so hard on not being a bother for her uncle that she forgot other people might notice her, too.

The Baron was staring at the veiled old woman in front of him with a contemptuous smirk. Of course he would follow the Bene Gesserit's order in the end whether he wanted it or not but he needed her to see that he was not as easy to control as most of the lesser lords.

“What are you asking of me, woman?” He asked as he looked her up and down.

The Bene Gesserit sighed. She knew perfectly well that he had heard her before.

“I want to put Countess Rabban to the test of Gom Jabbar to see if she’s fit for the marriage union that shall be arranged between her and Prince Paul Atreides,” she repeated her words.

“I am not fond of that girl but she is the closest thing to a daughter I have ever had,” The Baron shook his head. “What makes you think I would give her away to an Atreides?”

“Atreides was supposed to have a daughter who would be a match for your nephew Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. His concubine gave him a son instead but it doesn’t have to mean the match cannot be arranged. After all, Feyd-Rautha has a twin sister sharing his genetic material with him.”

“And what do I get of this union?” The Baron snorted.

“Control over your enemy; The Atreides family,” the Bene Gesserit nodded her head.

“Control over them? By sending that girl over there?” The Baron laughed at the idea. “She’s a weak woman. She won’t have control over anything.”

“Paul Atreides is a boy of a gentle nature, I have tested him already. Countess Rabban will easily push him in all the directions you will ask her to,” the woman tried to convince The Baron. He knew that if he’d argue even further she would just use The Voice.

“Alright then,” he shrugged his arms. “Put her to a test. If she dies, you’ll be the one breaking the news to her brothers. I won’t deal with their pathetic tears.”

Feyd didn’t know where his sister was. It was unusual for her not to wait in her chambers in the evening. Either way, he ordered the servants to fill the bathtub with water and then told them to leave as he sank into the warm liquid after a long day filled with combat training.

The doors opened after a while and (Y/N) entered the room. She had an odd expression on her face as if she was bothered with something and he spotted a few beads of sweat upon her forehead.

“Where were you?” Feyd squinted his eyes at her.

“The Bene Gesserit asked me to join her for a while. She did something weird to me,” she answered as she worked on her dress swiftly to take it off as quickly as possible.

“What do you mean weird?” Feyd tilted his head as he watched her undress. The folds of her skirt and bodice fell down to the floor and revealed her smooth skin and all the curves.

He had asked his older brother about their mother only once. His question had been about her looks. “What did she look like?”, young Feyd had asked. And all Glossu had answered was – “Just look at our sister”.

“She put me to a test. You’d like it,” (Y/N) smirked at him as she turned around to face him and join him in the bathtub. “It was painful,” she admitted and leaned her back on the edge, facing him. She let out a relaxed moan at the feeling of the warm water.

“She hurt you,” Feyd’s question was more of a statement as his jaw clenched.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) let out a laugh at his reaction. “Such a strong warrior you are and look at you, your older sister is your weakness,” she teased.

“Twenty minutes older,” Feyd scoffed as she chuckled at his annoyance. “Age does not matter, I could snap your neck in a second, dear sister. You have no idea how to defend yourself,” he pointed out angrily.

“Grumpy, grumpy, Feyd,” she giggled as she moved closer to him and sat astride him. Her hands caressed his muscular chest. “Don’t be so sure I’m that helpless… I’ve been watching you train my whole life. I’ve learnt a thing or two,” she lowered her face to whisper into his ear.

He felt his cock twitching at the feeling of her body on his; her sweet breath on his ear, her whisper sending shivers down his spine. He knew she didn’t mind. In fact, she was feeding off of his desire; teasing him mercilessly over and over. One thing Rabban had made very clear was that she could not be touched by any man before her wedding. But it did not mean that Feyd hadn’t been fantasising about it many times before.

She was an absolute perfection. She was like a reflection in the mirror. And who could be more beautiful and breathtaking than Feyd-Rautha himself? She was his missing part like he was hers. They completed each other in many ways but in other ways they were exactly the same. Their heartbeats and breaths were in sync, their desires were the same and he could not tell anymore whether he craved her because of the strong resemblance or had he been the one to spoil her. His childhood experience full of violence and cruelty turned him into a hypersexual predator who would fuck anything and anyone. He had been the first one to put the sexual context into their innocent touches and kisses. On the other hand, she had played along very quickly.

In the whole wide world, his twin sister was the only person who knew and understood him. They had no secrets with each other.

“You’re getting too excited, brother,” she pointed out with a smirk as she threw her arms around his neck. He looked up at her face looming over his. She was even more beautiful like that – on top of him, in control.

“You’re mine,” he let out a raspy whisper as she raised one of her white eyebrows at him. “You’re mine and only mine. Forever,” he breathed out.

“That’s an interesting concept, Feyd-Rautha,” she smiled, “but you do know that our brother is raising me to be another man’s lady.”

“You will be my Baroness and if our brother stands in the way of that happening, I will slay him,” Feyd threatened and his sister moved uncomfortably at his words.

“Stop talking nonsense,” she rose up to leave the bathtub already but Feyd grabbed her by her hair and pulled her down again as she hissed out of discomfort. He hated to inflict pain on her out of all the people but sometimes he just… had to.

“I do mean that,” he drawled as her eyes widened at him.

“I know,” she only said and he licked his lips at the sight of her chest rising up and down as she breathed heavily. He let go of her and watched her leave the bathtub and the bathroom without a word.

Feyd left the bathtub, too. He put on a simple black robe and went back to his room. His sister was laying on his bed, completely naked and playing with one of his short knives in her hands. He sighed with relief at the sight. He expected her to be offended and go to her room before locking the doors for the night.

“I’ll be back in a while,” he told her and approached the doors leading to the corridor. She snorted and he froze.

“You’re like a dog, dear brother. You men are so easy to control with your sexual urges and desires,” she commented and Feyd clenched his jaw as he turned his head around to look at her.

“I’m trying very hard not to violate you. Don’t tease,” he warned.

“Your own sister?” She grinned, showing off her black teeth.

As a child, she had insisted on dyeing them just like her twin brother. Glossu had refused – it would make her look less appealing for the future suitors. Even The Baron had told her it had not been the best idea. (Y/N) had not listened. She had sneaked into the medical wing and had done it herself. At twelve years old she had ruined herself for the first time for Feyd-Rautha.

That had been the only time when Glossu had actually punished her physically. Feyd still remembered because he had been waiting for her by the doors leading to his brother’s chambers. She had been screaming and kicking her feet while getting her arse spanked. After leaving the room, she had sniffled all the tears back and grinned at Feyd with her new black smile. “I’ve gotten my arse whooped,” she had told him proudly as if it was an achievement.

Some time later she had been caught wanting to shave her head off but it was Feyd this time who had stopped her – telling her how much he loved it, how it was making her look different than all the other women around. How much power that hair was giving her. It had made her hesitantly put the scissors down.

And now, Feyd did not answer her teasing accusation as he left the bedroom to go to his concubines, leaving his sister alone. He would join her later, when she would already be asleep. He’d pull her closer and she’d open her arms to welcome him. He’d fall asleep caressing the soft curves of her body and feeling her heartbeat pressed to his.

Two weeks later he trained as usual while (Y/N) sat nearby and watched. She would clap her hands excitedly each time he’d succeed and make a boo sound each time he’d lose. There was lots of mockery in her exaggerated reactions but he couldn’t imagine training without her around anymore.

At the sight of his brother entering the courtyard, Feyd lowered his blade and gave him an unpleasant look.

“What do you want? Why are you interrupting me?” He asked Glossu.

“I am not here for you,” his brother extended his hand towards their sister. “(Y/N), come with me. It is important,” he insisted and she whined. “Our uncle requires your presence.”

“Why?” Feyd barked. He did not like the idea of his uncle wanting something from his sister.

“It is none of your business, Feyd,” Glossu snapped at him and a second later he already had his brother’s knife pressed to his neck.

“Everything regarding (Y/N) is a business of mine,” Feyd hissed.

“Leave him alone,” she approached them as she ordered her twin brother. He took a step back and lowered the blade but only because it was her ordering him. She would always defend Glossu in all the arguments between the brothers. Feyd knew why – their older brother had been the closest thing to a father she had. He protected her, too. And that was the only thing Glossu and Feyd had in common. The love for their sister.

But only one of them loved her… so much.

She put her hands around Glossu’s arm and allowed him to lead her out of the courtyard. Feyd waved his hand dismissively at the servant he had been fighting with as he decided to follow them.

“Your presence was not requested,” his brother remarked.

“Don’t tease him so,” (Y/N) scolded him and he shut his mouth.

Glossu led them to the throne room where their uncle was sitting. But he was not alone. He had guests. Feyd and (Y/N) recognised them immediately from the pictures. The Atreides family – dignified and regally looking Duke Leto Atreides with his beautiful concubine Lady Jessica of The Bene Gesserit. Between them there was a young man standing – their son, Prince Paul Atreides. He was visibly trying to put on a brave face but he was scared and his eyes avoided the siblings who had just entered the room.

“Ah, here they are,” The Baron beckoned them over with his hand as he announced them. “My eldest nephew Count Glossu Rabban and his beloved younger sister, my niece, Countess (Y/N) Rabban.”

She let go of her older brother’s hand and stepped out to bow down slightly. Feyd sneered at that. He always would whenever she’d act like a lady – like their brother and uncle wanted her to. Like she had been taught to ever since she was a little girl.

“That insolent young man standing behind her is my heir and (Y/N)’s twin brother, Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” The Baron gave Feyd a scolding look.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lords, my Lady,” Duke Leto nodded his head at all of the siblings.

“(Y/N), child, come closer,” The Baron cooed to her unusually. He would often put on such a show in front of important guests as if he wasn’t treating her like air most of the time. But Feyd was glad that his uncle actually ignored his sister. Otherwise it would be more difficult to protect her.

She approached the guests with furrowed brows, visibly confused by this situation. Feyd’s heart already squeezed inside of his chest as he had a feeling what that was about.

“You will be married to Prince Paul Atreides,” The Baron informed her as if it was nothing.

Feyd looked at Glossu first but his brother did not look surprised at all. He had to know already and it made Feyd feel even angrier as he treated it as betrayal. He shot his uncle a furious glance and then he laid his eyes on his twin sister. To his surprise, she was smiling softly at the shy and gently looking young man.

“It is a great honour,” she bowed her head and Paul Atreides flinched a little. She noticed it. “Do not be scared of me, my Lord,” she chuckled delicately. “I am nothing like my brothers.”

Feyd gritted his teeth. Without a word – rudely and risking his uncle’s punishment – he turned around and left the room.

He saw her again in the evening. He had been training intensely for the past few hours, trying to let the frustration go. The doors leading to her bedroom were ajar and he peeked inside. (Y/N) was packing her things into black wooden chests.

“What are you doing?” Feyd asked her as his blood ran cold.

“I shall take a different room from now on. It is inappropriate for us to share one,” she muttered without even looking up at him.

“Since when do you care?” Feyd leaned on the wall and watched her carefully, trying not to show how much he was panicking on the inside.

“Since I am getting married soon,” she shrugged her arms and he snorted at her.

“You really think I’m going to allow this union, dear sister?” He asked and she turned her face around with her brows furrowed.

“You have nothing to say in that matter, brother,” she reminded him. “You are nothing but our uncle’s pet. The psychotic and fearsome Feyd-Rautha… If only they knew that you’re not scary at all,” she remarked as his jaw clenched.

“I will kill him if I must. That boy, Paul Atreides,” Feyd threatened.

“We both know you will not. It would have consequences greater than you and I can even imagine,” she smiled but he noticed the curls of her lips twitching. She was nervous.

“How can you not oppose this marriage?” Feyd let his guard down as he asked genuinely, expecting an answer just as honest.

His sister’s facial expression changed as well. She approached him and cupped his face in her delicate, soft hands.

“I’ve always known I would leave Giedi Prime eventually. I could only hope for a good husband and Paul Atreides is good. He is young and pretty and naive. My life as his Duchess will be easy and pleasant,” she explained softly. “I’ve always known I would leave Giedi Prime and I couldn’t wait for that day. I want to… No, I need to get away from here… from you,” she whispered as his eyes widened at her revelation. “You’re poisonous, Feyd-Rautha. You have spoiled me already, ruined me, stained me. And everywhere I go, our uncle’s sticky spiderweb surrounds me, suffocates me,” she finished before leaning in to place a gentle goodbye kiss upon his lips.

She wanted to move away but he grabbed her cheeks and aggressively pulled her closer once again, kissing her yet again but possessively and hungrily. She didn’t kiss him back this time.

When he finally let go of her, they were both breathing heavily but there was nothing but anger in their eyes.

“Stay away from me and stay away from Paul Atreides,” she warned her brother and he walked out of her room before slamming the doors behind him, furiously.

But Feyd did not stay away. Whenever he was not in the courtyard, training vigorously and slaying his opponents one after another with the ferocity he had not displayed before, he would follow (Y/N) and her husband-to-be around the fortress. He didn’t trust any servant to spy on them for him, no, he had to do it himself.

Paul Atreides was left alone for two weeks on Giedi Prime and after that time he would take the Countess with him to Caladan. He was scared of his betrothed’s planet as he was widening his eyes at everything as she explained to him gently. Usually Feyd was catching them in the maze of countlessly corridors as they walked together. Soft laughter of his sister occasionally filled the cold marble walls. 

He was nearly always there; creeping in the shadows, watching, observing, gritting his teeth at her every smile or blush. Paul Atreides, visibly scared of her at first, was slowly starting to get used to her presence. And one day he dared to lean in and steal a delicate kiss from her lips.

Feyd clenched his fists at the sight as he was hiding behind the pillar. His sister’s lips had never been kissed before by any man other than him. His blood boiled when he realised that not only Paul Atreides would kiss her but also claim her as his own and put his weak and pathetic heirs inside her womb.

No, that could not happen. She was made for him, she was his other half. Feyd-Rautha would not let any other man take her away from him.

He turned around and quietly went to the living quarters where he found the room that now belonged to his sister. He barked at the servant girls to leave him and they ran away, startled by his anger. Once he was alone in (Y/N)’s bedroom, he patiently waited.

After a while, he heard her footsteps down the corridor. He would recognise them everywhere. He stood behind the doors as his heart pounded in his chest from the anticipation.

She pushed the doors open and walked inside, looking around for her servant girls. Feyd was standing behind her and observing her carefully, wondering when she’d notice him.

“I know you’re here,” she sighed without looking back. “I can recognise your stench,” she drawled.

He growled at her insolent words as he swiftly moved forward and grabbed her by her hair, pulling it by the roots and making her hiss out of pain. He pulled her closer to him, rested her body on his and smirked while pressing his cheek to hers.

“You’ve never seemed to complain about my scent before, dear sister,” he pointed out.

“I meant that you stink of sweat and blood at this very moment,” she fixed herself, still wincing out of pain he was inflicting upon her. “What do you want from me?”

“I saw you with him,” he breathed out.

“I know. I see you in the shadows every time,” she sneered. “I recommend finding a different hobby.”

“You’re mine. If you think I’m going to let you leave Giedi Prime, carry his surname and bear his filthy Atreides children in your womb, then you are mistaken, sister,” Feyd whispered angrily into her ear before biting on her earlobe.

She did not answer but in her eyes he spotted fear. Real fear, not her usual playful demeanour. For the first time in her life she was truly scared of her twin brother. Perhaps for the first time she understood why others feared him.

Still holding her by her white hair, he walked her to the bed and threw her on it. She immediately tried to crawl away and run away from him but he grabbed her ankle and watched her struggle with a smirk.

“Leave me alone,” she tried to command him. And usually he would listen to her orders but not now, too blinded by jealousy.

In one swift movement he brought her closer by her ankle and tore her dress and underwear open with his small knife. She looked up at him with anger, fear and a dose of excitement that made him smirk. Her body betrayed her – she wanted it, too. 

He was rock hard already at the sight of her like that for him. She was like a prey on display for him to feast upon. Feyd licked his lips and turned her around. He took his cock out of his leather pants as she tried to stand up on her shaky hands and legs to get away. Before she’d move too far, he pulled her close once again with a laugh.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he threatened and pressed his blade under her chin.

On her hands and knees with her beautiful white hair resting on her back – he had been dreaming of claiming her from behind this way for years now. She was trembling out of fear and anger but she couldn’t scream for help when his blade was so close to her larynx.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned in closer to her ear. “You’re my other half.”

He felt her swallowing thickly under his blade as he smirked to himself and moved the knife away. Before she could scream, he pushed her head down into her pillow, muffling any sound that would leave her mouth.

“No Atreides will fuck you. No other man will at all, for that matter,” he barked at her, his cock twitching already at the sight of her exposed womanhood. “You’re mine,” he reminded her.

She tried to protest but he couldn’t understand the words she was saying. He pressed her head even deeper into the pillow and with his free hand he ran across her folds, finding her clit and pinching it as she squealed and kicked her feet.

She was so delicate and sensitive, his dear sister. He took a deep breath in as he was starting to get dizzy from the sight and smell alone. He worked his fingertips around her sweet spot and noticed her muscles relaxing as her will to fight him off started to subdue gradually. At the first feeling of her warm wetness, he gathered it and brought his fingers to his mouth. Feyd hummed at the taste.

“Do you know what you taste like?” He asked her angrily and pulled her hair again. She shook her head. “Like me,” he pointed out. “Because we belong together,” he reminded her and she whined.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed her now. He pumped his hard cock a few times before lining it up with her tight hole. Feyd nearly felt bad for his sweet sister, for the pain she would experience now. But no feeling was stronger than his lust.

He entered her in one deep thrust while she yelped and writhed; even the pillow was not able to muffle the pathetic sound leaving her mouth. He closed his eyes at the feeling of her warm and tight walls spasming around his length. She was perfect, she was made for him and him only. They were finally complete again; one body, one soul.

“You will rule with me as my Baroness,” he hissed as his hips began to thrust into her. “We will bring back the old traditions, keep our bloodline pure. And you will give me heirs,” he crooned to her maliciously. “You were made to do that, sweet sister. Made for me. Me,” he kept repeating.

She drooled and sobbed into the soft silky pillow as her hands were clutching on the sheets. She was helpless under him but what she hated the most was that part of her that did not want him to stop. That part of her that felt the same way as her brother – complete at the feeling of him fucking her. Like she was finally connected to the long lost part of her body.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head with each of his thrust, filling her so thoroughly, making her feel full and overwhelmed as he was hitting all the right spots inside of her. She knew that sweet and gentle Paul Atreides would never claim her this way. No one would. Only her twin brother knew how to please her. He understood her more than anybody else.

He spoiled her, he ruined her, he was poisonous. But who said she didn’t want it? Her body betrayed her as it admitted that she craved it.

What she feared were the consequences of this act. The consequences of breaking the fragile truce with The Atreides, the consequences of breaking up the engagement that had been not only prepared by The Baron himself but also plotted by the dangerous Bene Gesserit.

None of it mattered, though. None of it was important with Feyd's cock buried so deep inside of her, his hand pushing her face into the pillow and making her suffocate slightly, which only enhanced the pleasure. His free hand was squeezing her hip and marking it as he grunted and cooed to her all those blasphemous promises about their shared life together, their compatibility, their bodies being made for one another.

She came first; suddenly and without a warning. Her body spasmed and trembled as her limbs went numb. At the feeling of her tight walls fluttering around his cock, Feyd reached his peak right after but he did not pull out for a long time, emptying himself as deep inside of her as he could; straight into her womb.

His sister whined at the feeling of his thick, black cum coating her walls but now, after his release, most of his anger was gone as well, so he just caressed her head and shushed her.

“Shh, dear sister, just take it like you were made to,” he cooed and she didn’t have any strength in her body to fight it anymore.

When he eventually pulled out, he watched her pussy twitching deliciously as a small streamlet of his black cum leaked out of it and stained her grey sheets, mixing with a few droplets of blood.

“Now, when you’ve been claimed by me,” Feyd smirked to himself proudly as he hid his cock back into his pants, “no other man will want you. Not when you’re surely carrying my spawn in your womb,” he added and left the room without a word.

He refused to watch her laying there and sobbing silently, trying to collect her breath and clumsily stand up to go to the bathroom. Some part of him regretted his act and seeing his beloved sister in such a state was bringing him no pleasure. He couldn’t take this back now, though, and he didn’t want to. It just had to be done.

The room was dead silent. Old Bene Gesserit woman was staring at Countess Rabban in disbelief and the young woman held her head down with her hands clasped around her abdomen as if she was protecting her spawn from The Reverend Mother’s gaze.

Both Baron Harkonnen and Duke Atreides looked displeased but only the second one was also visibly disgusted. His son was standing by his side; shocked and scared. Saddened. Disappointed.

Glossu Rabban’s face showed nothing but disappointment and disgust as well. His anger was aimed mostly at his younger brother. He refused to believe his sister could be as rotten as Feyd-Rautha – the only person in the room who actually looked proud as he straightened himself and smirked at everyone gathered inside.

“What are you smiling about, boy?” The Reverend Mother scolded him. “Have you got any idea what you have done?”

“I’ve claimed my sister as my own. It is an old tradition of the Great Houses to practise,” he reminded her.

“Which was abandoned a long time ago for a reason!” The Bene Gesserit snapped at him. “Your sister was supposed to give birth to Paul Atreides’ son and bring Kwisatz Haderach to life!”

“I do not care about your schemes,” Feyd rolled his eyes as he moved closer to his sister.

“Stay away from her,” Glossu barked.

“Or what? She’s already carrying my child inside of her, is she not?” Feyd asked, proudly as most of the room flinched with disgust.

“She can still bear Kwisatz Haderach,” The Baron tried to desperately save the situation. “We can get rid of that spawn inside of her and still give her to Paul Atreides. Obviously, not as a wife anymore,” he assured Duke Leto. “As a whore that she apparently is.”

Feyd clenched his jaw at his words as he took a step ahead of (Y/N) and covered her body with his from the sight.

“Over my dead body any of you will touch my sister or my child,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

“Inbreeding your bloodline might have morbid consequences,” The Reverend Mother informed him. “She’s carrying a demon.”

Feyd snorted at her. Was he supposed to be scared of her words? They only made him even more proud.

At those words, Baron Harkonnen squinted his eyes at the Bene Gesserit woman. He visibly liked the idea of having demonic heirs as well.

“I've changed my mind. We will not get rid of the child,” he decided. “Feyd-Rautha is my na-baron. If he chooses to marry his twin sister, then that is his right,” he said.

“That is plain disrespect!” Duke Leto raised his voice. “We have agreed to this union despite the bride being… not of the best quality. We have brought our son here, to this poisoned planet and nothing but humiliation awaited him here.”

Duke Leto pushed his son lightly in the direction of the doors as they walked out, offended. The guards looked at The Baron Harkonnen questioningly.

“Let them go,” he chuckled. “Soon, their time will come anyway.”

“Not before we secure young Paul Atreides’ bloodline!” The Reverend Mother widened her eyes at him as she ran after Duke Leto. “My Lord, please wait, I have another brides to offer that will suit your son just right…!” Her voice disappeared when the heavy doors closed behind them all.

“So, it’s settled,” Baron Harkonnen took a look at his nephews and niece as he puffed on his pipe and sighed. “You owe me for that, Feyd,” he pointed out and his young nephew bowed down. “I knew that you children would bring me nothing but trouble.”

“I am sorry!” Glossu exclaimed all of sudden as everyone looked at him, surprised. “I am sorry for failing, uncle! I was supposed to look after her, to protect her, to make sure everything goes right…”

“But everything did go right,” Baron Harkonnen laughed contemptuously. “(Y/N), darling, come here…” He reached his hand out and the young woman nodded her head before approaching her uncle, obediently. “When you were a little baby, I wanted to get rid of you,” he admitted as he held her hand. “Your brother Glossu was the one to convince me you would be useful one day. He swore to raise you.”

(Y/N) didn’t react to those words. She only stood there and looked deep into her uncle’s eyes.

“Turns out he was right,” The Baron continued, “you are very useful for The House Harkonnen. You will bear us strong heirs that shall take over the whole Empire…” He hummed and she nodded. “From now on, even before your wedding to your brother, you will be known as Countess (Y/N) Harkonnen. I adopt you,” he announced as her eyes sparkled.

“Thank you, uncle,” she let go of his hand to take a step back and bow her head down.

Feyd stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Glossu was staring at them as if he wanted to kill them both at that moment. Even his baby sister whom he had raised was suddenly more important in the family hierarchy than him.

“You have my blessing,” The Baron told them and dismissed them all with a wave of his hand.

Feyd walked his sister out of the throne room with his hands still on her shoulders. He was as protective as ever with her now when she was in her delicate state.

He took her back to their shared chambers to which she had returned recently. He sat her down on the edge of his bed and approached the vanity table to get a brush before sitting behind her and taking care of her long, white hair. Delicately working on every small tangle, sniffing the scent of her favourite hair oils, smiling to himself at the thought he would have her for himself forever from now on.

“Are you happy, dear sister?” He asked as he gathered her hair to throw it out of her left shoulder and place a kiss on the exposed skin of her neck.

“We belong together,” she answered, her hands still clasped on her abdomen protectively as if that demonic spawn inside of her needed protection. “I was made for you,” she added.

She would not get away from Giedi Prime. She would not be given to any lord and run away from The Harkonnens. In fact, now she was a Harkonnen, too. Her fate was to rule alongside Feyd-Rautha as his sister-wife.

“I asked, are you happy, dear sister?” He repeated the question, squinting his eyes at her.

She took a deep breath in. She knew that he would know if she lied to him but she didn’t feel the need to hide anything from him. Therefore, she spoke the truth:

“I am.”

MASTERLIST

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #lilysfiction #austin butler x reader

[aemondtargaryenonlyfans]

TO STOKE A FLAME.

Aemond Targaryen x servant!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; p in v, oral (m receiving), power imbalance (prince and maid), mutual pining, female Reader

WORDS: 4K

NOTES: this is written for the writing challenge hosted by @targaryenvampireslayer I got the prompt "Just relax for me, I'll make it feel good" and the trope mutual pining. This was my first time writing mutual pining, and I hope it's at least slightly fitting lol.

When you’re first assigned to cleaning the chambers of the King’s second son, your heart leaps for it means you are able to escape the tortures of being a scullery maid for a position that is at least a bit higher ranked, and not as ungrateful and strainful. 

Prince Aemond is an early riser, already up long before first light, and whenever he sets off to train with the sword in the morning, it’s time for you to take care of his quarters. 

There’s another maid that has been offered the same opportunity, only that she is in charge of making the chambers Prince Aegon presentable, and from what you have gathered, you wouldn’t want to trade places with her. 

Aemond’s chambers are always immaculate when you step into them. Everything is in its place, and the air is always filled with the cool morning breeze from the windows he’s kept open. Quite different to the quarters of his older brother. 

But what they do have in common are their questionable reputations. 

While Aegon is promiscuous, known to pinch and fondle at any serving girl who strays within his reach, Aemond is somewhat feared, at least among the staff. Most servant girls keep well away from the prince, and a part of you is certain it is solely because of the black eyepatch he dons after losing his eye, and the grim expression he usually holds on his face. 

The other maid that tends to his chambers with you is overly cautious when dusting or putting fresh linens on his bed, something that even makes you swallow thickly. However, you can’t seem to bring yourself to share their sentiment. 

How could you?

Despite only meeting the prince very briefly, you feel like every day that you sweep through his chambers, you get to know him more and more. If there’s bedlam following in Aemond’s wake when he leaves in the morning, it merely consists of several books scattered all over his desk, his armchairs and sometimes even his bed. 

Most of them deal with dragon lore, history, and a variety of other subjects which you wouldn’t expect to be read by any other lord, making clear that the prince is very well educated, and always strives to learn more. 

And though he keeps his chambers mostly spotless, there’s very much of his personality in them – if you read between the lines. 

More oft than not, the armchairs close to the fireplace don’t stand in their usual positions, turned to the side to face each other with one of them being piled by books or scrolls. And you know from the servants that he’s often found sitting beside the fireplace either in deep thought or engrossed in a book with the flames of the fire dancing in the corner of his eye. 

You’re cleaning his quarters all by yourself today for Darla, the other maid assigned, has been called to take care of something else, which means you’re granted slightly more time for Aemond’s chambers. 

Kneeling in front of the fireplace, you’re knocking off as much ash and debris as possible back into it, before some of it is swept up and emptied into the pail standing next to you. 

You’ve been a bit too engrossed in your task when the doors behind you burst open, catching you by surprise and startling you. There’s only one person that could and would enter the prince’s quarters at this hour of the day – the prince himself. 

As you hurry to get back on your feet, already straightening and dusting off the skirt of your maid attire, you’re a bit too quick and hit your head on the ledge of the fireplace, your mob cap falling to the ground in the process. 

It’s a stinging pain that shoots right through your whole body, and a throbbing that settles at the crown of your head. You bring a hand up to soothe the pain at least a bit, before you’re reminded of the reason why you got up in the first place. 

Gritting your teeth, you take in a sharp breath and lower your hand, bobbing a small curtsy with a strained ‘Prince Aemond’ leaving your lips to the man that stands still in the room, clearly regarding you.

“My apologies, I–” you say, trying to make excuses and wanting to state that you’re just about to leave, but he cuts you off. 

“Are you well?” he asks, though there is a lilt of amusement in his voice. “I apologize for startling you, that was not my intent.”

What’s even more unusual than him apologizing to you, a servant, for barging into his own chambers is that he's inquiring about your well-being. You’ve never before been acknowledged by any of the Targaryen’s, not that you expected it, and feeling his gaze on you kind of makes you nervous. 

He raises his brow when there doesn’t come an answer from you, and you take it as your cue to speak. “I–Yes, Prince Aemond,” you stutter, bowing your head. Raising it again, your hand brushes the crown of it briefly, the spot still throbbing despite it happening a few moments ago. “I am well. It’s–It’s nothing, my prince.” 

Gathering your things, you’re caught off guard for a second time since he’s entered his chambers as he slowly approaches you. He has a sympathetic smile on his lips now, and you’re not sure if it’s the embarrassment or him coming close enough to tower above you, but your body feels like it’s been put on fire. 

“Are you certain you’re well?” he asks, eye flitting from your head to meet your eyes. “You’ve struck your head rather hard.”

He reaches to inspect the spot on your head, yet he hesitates and pulls back right before his fingers could brush your hair. You’re slightly disappointed, but your pounding heart is grateful. Just the mere proximity brings a blush to your cheeks and has you shifting your weight from one leg to the other, and you’re certain you wouldn’t have been able to handle him touching you. 

There’s a moment of silence between you, and your hands clutch the handle of the pail tight enough for your knuckles to blanch from the force. It’s unnerving, and you’re torn between wanting to stay and wanting to leave. You’re afraid he’s not the man you’ve made up in your mind, that there’s just a hint of truth in the rumors that make their way around staff and court. 

His voice cuts through the silence like a sharp blade, smooth and somewhat calming. “What’s your name?”

Taking in a deep breath, you tell him your name, but not without your eyes darting to the ground. His gaze is heavy, too heavy for you to meet it, and you feel as though there’s something else than curiosity woven within it.

“You’re quite flustered over nothing,” he hums, and the way your name slips past his lips with so much ease almost makes you melt right then and there; at least it’s enough to make you forget that he’s clearly noticed the effect he has on you. 

Aemond takes note of you being nervous around him, his attention causing your blood to rush through your veins. It seems as though it’s a rather strong reaction that you have to him, something not many women feel when he comes near them. It’s endearing.

Your eyes flicker upwards to meet his good one again, and you straighten your back for another curtsy. 

“M-my apologies, Prince Aemond.”

You can spot the exact moment the corners of his lips curl into a teasing smirk, your timid demeanor and your nervousness the trigger for it. And being as cocky as he is, he thinks he could have a bit of fun with you. 

“It seems you’re rather out of sorts for something so trivial,” he notes, his tone teasing and playful, matching the flicker of mischief in his eye. “Perhaps I should inspect you myself to see if you have in fact sustained any injuries.”

His words make you feel as if the world around you is slowing down, making everything feel almost unbearable. You’re finding it incredibly hard to look him in the eye without blushing or your breath becoming heavy, and therefore fix them on the ground again. Noticing his large feet in comparison to your much smaller ones, your thoughts briefly stray to what else of him might be large. 

But before you can answer him, or your thoughts can dive deeper, Aemond places a hand beneath your chin and gently tilts your face back up for you to meet his gaze. You’ve only seen one other in passing, and even then you’re certain he’s paid no mind to you at all, so his touch comes unexpected. But you don’t tense, and you certainly don’t pull away. However, you’re unsure if you should give in and lean into it. 

His finger brushes along your jawline, trailing down the curve of your neck, and coming close to your collarbone, a heat following in its wake. He stops for a second, as if he’s debating whether or not he should move his touch any further. 

Aemond’s surprised by your reaction, yet he also realizes that you’re much more interesting than any of the other maids for they were all alike – all not daring to look at him or stay in his presence for longer than a few minutes. But you’re different. 

He could already tell by the way you so neatly clean and store his books when he’s spent his night reading by the fire, or how you seem to pay extra attention when you’re putting fresh linens on his bed, fluffing his pillows without the hurry the previous chambermaid has had. 

And seeing his touch having such a significant impact on you, the little maid he’s spent so much time dreaming and fantasizing about, feeds a desire he didn’t have before – the desire to bed you, to claim you. 

“Get on your knees,” he orders, hooded eye looking down at you. 

Swallowing thickly, your mind struggles to comprehend what he asked of you. “I-what?” you stammer in disbelief. 

“You heard me. On your knees.” He’s a bit firmer now, and uses the slight grip he has on your shoulder to give you a little help sinking down. You follow his lead, the pail rattling onto the ground. 

Your hands are folded in your lap when you gaze up at him, eyes wide and curiously studying his next move. With your thumbs brushing over each other, you try to keep your fluttering nerves at bay, grazing your skin to distract yourself from the throbbing that blossoms between your legs. 

Aemond looms over you, reaching out to cup your cheek with one hand. There’s something in the position you’re in, and the combination of his gentle touch and stern orders that gets to your head, and lures you in to lean into his hand. It also makes you a bit bolder as you place a hand on his thigh in return.

It piques his interest, obvious in the way he raises a brow, and his eye flickers to where your hand rests on his body. But he doesn’t shy away from the touch. 

“Do you know what I require of you?” Aemond asks, sterner than before. 

You bow your head, batting your eyelashes at him in an innocent manner. “I do, my Prince.”

That’s all he has to hear before he swiftly unlaces the front of his breeches and tugs them down barely enough to free his cock and stones, the sight alone making your breath hitch in your throat. He’s well endowed, and far bigger than the cock of the one man you’ve slept with before.

You release a shaky breath, replaying all the knowledge you’ve gathered about pleasuring a man with your mouth, and catch a whiff of musk mixed with the salty smell of sweat – he’s definitely trained with the sword this morning. 

Squeezing his thigh, your eyes flicker between his and his hard cock as the slight nod of his head encourages you to curl your hand around it, your thumb and index finger barely touching. 

He throbs in your palm already, and the tip is covered in a red that makes it clear he’s desperate to be buried inside of something; probably not caring whether it’s your mouth or your cunt.

Even though you cower beneath his dominating presence, a jolt of boldness strikes you that makes you lean in and lick a flat stripe from the base of his cock up to the bulbous tip. A salty taste lingers on your tongue as you drag it over the slit, making you hum appreciatively, seemingly pleased to witness the effect your touch and presence have on the prince’s body. 

Aemond buries his hands in your hair, loosening the bun you’ve put it into this morning, and grabs a fistful of it. It’s a sharp tug of him that catches your attention, and your wide eyes flit up to meet his demanding gaze. 

Spurred on by the heavy breaths moving his chest, you swallow, and eventually part your lips to slowly ease him inside, and even though he holds you by your hair, he’s generous enough to not force himself inside, allowing you to move as you please. 

“Fuck,” he growls as he gets accustomed to the warmth and tightness of your mouth, head tipping back to release a bawdy groan. 

You hollow your cheeks around him, and, after a few moments that allow you to adjust to him, start to bob your head back and forth his thick length, flattening your tongue against him for added stimulation. 

Growing bolder and bolder with each passing moment, you squeeze your thighs together every time the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat, robbing you of the ability to breathe until you pull off of him again. 

With his hand in your hair, Aemond senses you getting more comfortable, and starts to guide your head along his member, encouraging you to set up a quicker pace to which you eagerly comply. 

“That’s it,” he groans, not able to tear his eye from the sight of your lips wrapped around him as his cock repeatedly disappears inside of your mouth.

Droplets of your saliva dribble from the corners of your lips down your chin with how fast you sink down on him, and the lewd sounds of his soaked cock sliding back and forth past your lips fill the prince’s chambers, hardly drowned out by his grunts and groans. 

At this point, you’re drenched in your arousal, the linen of your small clothes clinging to your swollen mound in a way that’s almost uncomfortable. 

While you bring one hand up to clasp around the rest of his cock that doesn’t fit into your mouth, the other grips his thigh a bit harder than before, holding onto him for dear life as he uses your face however he pleases. 

You feel the muscles of his thigh tense and contract under your palm and his cock throb inside of you, indicating that he’s close to reaching his peak. It’s the first time you pleasure a man with your mouth, and you’re not quite sure what to expect. But before you can brace yourself for whatever might come, Aemond pulls you off of him by your hair, prompting you to topple back to sit on your haunches. 

You lock your teary eyes with his good one, lips smacking as his musky and salty taste spreads on them and your tongue. “My Prince, I–”

“Remove your clothes,” he interrupts you, his voice less friendly and more a command. 

There are so many thoughts rattling your mind right now, and you don’t know where to start and what to process. 

“I wasn’t asking,” he growls, his impatience showing as you don’t comply quickly enough. 

With a bow of your head, you rise to your feet and peel the beige-ish apron off of your body, the red dress and smallclothes following suit. You waste no thought on your modesty, on the fact that you’re standing bare in front of a prince of the mighty House Targaryen. The longing for him that has built with all the days you’ve cleaned his pristine chambers, and the undeniable aching between your legs don’t allow you to. 

You’re undressed when he stalks around you, regarding you like he’s the hunter and you’re his prey. You see that your obedience arouses him, his hard cock throbbing and bouncing with each step he takes around you. It’s thrilling in the best way possible, and the feeling of being desired by him feeds your confidence.

“Are you just watching, or will the prince undress as well?” 

His eye narrows and flickers up to yours at your question, and there’s the hint of a smile adorning his features. “Would you like that?” 

Biting your bottom lip, a blush creeps on your cheeks. “Very much.”

As you size him up, you notice a flush blossoming from his cheeks down his neck, the same warmth you feel obviously spreading through his body, too. 

“Then I suppose that I’ll oblige.”

You watch with half-lidded eyes as he removes his clothing, slipping out of layer after layer, starting with the black leather robe, and ending with his smallclothes.  

You all but drag your eyes over his lithe frame, taking in every muscle that ripples beneath his pale skin, and every silver, coarse hair that trails from below his navel to his cock and the sac of his stones. 

It seems like he basks in your attention, in the way you stare at him in awe as you lick your lips, and he’s certainly not afraid of showing himself in his full glory. 

“Get on the bed,” he says, smugly. “On your hands and knees.”

This time you know better than to take a few seconds to comply, bowing your head before climbing his bed right away, getting in the desired position. You suddenly feel vulnerable and exposed, completely at his mercy in a way you’ve never experienced before. However, your curiosity and desire overshadow any reservations you could have. 

“Pray tell, have you lain with a man before?” You feel the mattress dip beneath his weight as he slowly settles behind you. His hands find your hips, and you shiver with anticipation. 

Looking at him from over your shoulder, you nod. “Just once, my prince.”

A soft hm rubles in his chest at your words, and he raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your words. You certainly seem to take him very seriously, which isn’t unusual given his station, but it’s your honesty that’s a whole different matter to him. “You enjoyed it, I presume?”

Still meeting his gaze, you swallow thickly. You’re hesitant to answer, not sure why it’s of importance, but he doesn’t seem willing to let you off the hook just yet. “Yes, I did.”

Aemond gives your flesh an appreciative squeeze at that, and shuffles close enough for you to feel his cock press against your arse. “Would you be willing to again?”

You press your lips into a thin line to stop them from pulling into a grin, but fail miserably. The prince behind you takes that as his cue to continue, and you’re most grateful when you feel him drag the tip of his cock through your soaked folds. 

“Just relax for me,” he purrs, his eye fixed on the motions of his hand, watching as his cock disappears inside of you. “I’ll make it feel good.”

The moment you stretch around him, you take in a sharp breath, his cock breaching your cunt at a teasingly slow pace that makes sure you feel every vein and ridge of him drag along your walls.

With his hands coming back to rest on your hips, he pulls you onto his cock until his hips press against your arse, taking his time to adjust to your tightness. The ‘shit’ he mumbles doesn’t go unnoticed by you, a renewed wave of your arousal drenching his cock and the sac of his stones. 

If his impatience hasn’t been running thin before, it certainly does now, because the first gentle, sensual thrusts are quickly replaced by merciless pounding. You don’t mind it for you’ve been thoroughly soaked, and enjoy the feeling of his cock repeatedly brushing the spot inside of you that makes your vision go blurry. 

Aemond brings a hand between your shoulders, applying a good bit of pressure to press your chest down and your face into the pillows. Your head turns to the side, but you’re not able to look at him.

His breathing is heavy, strained pants leaving him, and his hand trails back to grope your arse. 

“Fuck, what an obedient girl they’ve ordered to take care of my chambers–of me,” Aemond rambles behind you, bowing forwards to put a bit more of his weight on your small frame. “Taking me so well. Giving me exactly what I want.” 

The praise goes straight to your head, and you want to answer, but the words die on your tongue, replaced by quiet whimpers and whines that grow wanton as he splits you open with a hard, percussive thrust. Then another follows, and another, keening at the sweet sounds you make only for him. 

Not able to focus on anything else than the pressure building inside of your belly, you push your hips back against him, and he counters by pulling you back with each of his thrusts, meeting him halfways which results in the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin to echo off the walls. 

He’s making you feel so good, so wanted, that you’re certain you would keep going even if someone is to barge into his chambers, interrupting you.

As his hand snakes beneath your body to make contact with your pearl, you’re overcome with the true knowledge of how experienced Aemond actually is. He strums your body like the most talented lutenist, bringing you closer towards your sweet release. 

“Gods, I–” you whine into the pillows. 

The taut string inside of you snaps, and the pleasure within you soares through your veins. White, hot pleasure clouds your vision, his arm around you the only thing keeping you up right now. 

“That’s it,” Aemond grunts, and the snaps of his hips increase to the point your whines become hiccuped, catching in your throat with little to no time to fill your lungs with air. 

And then, his hips stutter, his throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of your quivering walls. He twitches and trembles so much that he’s forced to still his hips, and you take it as your cue to roll yours against him, helping him through his peak. 

The throbbing only stills once you’ve milked him for every drop of his seed and the last bit of the euphoric high subsides, making him come back to his senses. 

But there’s not much basking in the proximity for you, not when Aemond pulls out almost immediately after, climbing off the bed to get dressed again. The red dress is crudely thrown into your direction, silently making clear that it’s time for you to leave. 

It seems as though he’s embarrassed, because he has a hard time meeting your eyes, and doesn’t look at you when you get back in your clothes. But perhaps you’re just not catching the subtle glances he throws into your direction as your maid attire comes back to hug your curves. 

Tying the apron and fixing your hair, you reach for the pail. It’s then, with you bowing forwards, that you finally feel his seed trickling out of your cunt, and the sensation alone makes you shiver in an uncomfortable way. You certainly have to look for a quiet spot in the keep where you can clean yourself, since you’re not done working. 

You head for the door, but before you open it, his smooth voice catches your attention again. 

“You may leave now, but I expect you to come back and finish your task at the Hour of the Ghosts, for you have not cleaned the fireplace thoroughly enough.”

Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @connorsui @valeskafics

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #prince aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x female reader #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd fic #hotd smut #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon x reader

[keen-li]

PREDESTINED

Mortal/commer jk x goddess reader

Jk x fem reader.

Fantasy au

Wc: 4.1k

Oneshot

☆☆☆

You release a moan at how the water touches your body and how the bubbles of heat tickle your breasts. You hum your beautiful melodies, your melodious voice calling out to all the little night lights that luminate your night bath. Your body glows and causes the pool you're in and anything you touch to glow. You continue to rub your smooth and soft skin when you hear a rustle in the bushes behind you. No one and absolutely no one is allowed in your forest inclosed pool. Not even the servants. Anyone who dares to trespass your territory by your guarantee will be banished. There's only one person allowed, he's the main reason why you have this place enclosed. It's the only place where you to can meet freely. And so you already know that it's him

"You shouldn't be here" you say with a smile. Legally he shouldn't be here but personally you're glad he's here.

"I'm to be married tomorrow"

You can hear the cling of his belt and the his trousers hit the floor. By the sound alone you feel yourself clench. You don't have to be a genius to know how he's feeling. "And that's why im here..." his husky voice speaks.

"...to give you a goodbye" you hum at his words and see the ripples caused by the entrance of his body into the water. And in a second he's standing in front of you, muscles and tattoos on show for you. You've always loved his tattoos especially the effect you had on them.

"This is no goodbye, jeon" your hand touches his as your fingers trace the muscles of his chest. When your hand traces his tattoos, each little inked pattern begins to light up. You loved that and so did he, telling by the smile on his face as he watches his tattoos light up. "I love when you do that"

"I love to do it" your hands leave his now fully glowing tattoos and he takes the moment to take your hand in his. He places a kiss on your hand eyes still on yours.

"love your hands and the power they have" kiss. "the power they have on me" kiss. "on my mind" kiss, "and on my heart"

"And wont say where else..but you know"

He winks at you making you blush. His hands trace your hips feeling your curves. It took him sometime to get used to the power your body emits, but he's like a pro now, knowing how to hold and handle your body. Its like your power has become used to his touch and hold. You certainly have. You give into his touch immediately moving your neck to allow his lips to make a move. and they do. They're soft and gentle against your skin. If you could you'd pull him even closer into your body by his waist.

Your voice gives in to his contact. You whine at each touch. "its like you've got a spell on me, y/n" he says against your skin.

"you dare call my name, jeon" you say seriously but you're everything but serious.

He chuckles "should I shy away from calling my love's name?" he stops his kisses to look into your bright eyes.

"a goddess's name"

"my wife's name" you scoff at that. His fingers tickle your waist knowing your follow up statement. "kookie I can't be your wife" just by the way you his name electricity is sent to his crotch.

"you can be if you just get the tattoo" you know what he means he's been telling you ever since he knew his love for you that you should get the tattoo, but its not that easy. He already has your name tattooed on his. Right on his heart, magically, and on his left chest peck, physically. You knew all you had to do in order to be married to jungkook is if you got the tattoo, but its hard for you. You're timed to be married to someone else tomorrow and your family would never allow a god like you to be married to a mortal like him,

That's what your father said when you brought the idea to him. He even threatened to banish the mortal who had caused you thoughts like that. And after that you pushed away all thoughts of introducing jungkook. You knew it was never fated for a mortal and a god to be intertwined, but you swear you and jungkook's names are written in gold side by side and hearts tied by the red strings of fate. you believe its true and so does he.

"you know its not that easy" you say and sigh. Jungkook knows how hard this is for you, its also hard for him. The thought of being banished is scary but the thought of having you taken away from him is terrifying. he never wants that to happen and he's not gonna let it, whether because of the man you're to marry or because of your father.

"if you just get my name tattooed, you won't be able to marry him" he tries to convince you. "jungkook" you whine and each time you call his name it physically pulls at his heart where you engraved your name.

"baby" he whines back and his whimpery tone causes your core to throb. "if you dont want to I underst-" he says completely honest.

"no, I want to. I want to so badly" your face falls after your statement.

"im just scared..for you" he knew you were. But you didn't need to, and even though he can't compete with the gods, he'd rather be banished than live a life where he can't be with you. And he always wants to show you that. You give in to the touch of his palm on your cheek as you hum feeling his warmth. He stares warmly into your eyes as they stare back, if he wasn't already used to it, he'd go blind from the stars that shine in your eyes. Literally.

"remember when I first met you?" he asks and you nod.

"you were so stupid, how could you cross the garden? You could've been killed" you slap his chest playfully. Your slaps no longer feel like thunder claps now that he's used to them.

"I could've but I didn't, and I never will" he shows you his cheeky grin.

"don't be so cocky"

"speaking of-" he says his eyes dropping to his crotch, your eyes follow his vision and you chuckle.

"fine I'll do it"

"do what? My cock?" you slap his arm.

"no... The tattoo. I'll do it" he looks at you to see if you're serious and you are, you genuinely want to.

"What? afraid you might have to live life without my cock?" you want to slap his arm but he catches it at your wrist and grins at you. You cheekily smirk back.

"Maybe" you shrug "but mostly afraid of living without you"

"Aaa. You're so cute my goddess" he squints his eyes and grabs his chest feigning to be in pain. You're cute little laughter brings him back.

"why don't we change the mood. It's our last day together"

"its not, you need to stop joking about that"

"I'm sorry" he pecks your lips. "let me apologize" he says his lips now by your ears and his hands hooking behind your thighs.

He lifts you and soon enough your core meets his.

  "Fuck, you feel so good " he curses

"don't curse around me jeon" you can barely say by the way he's rolling into you.

...

You sit drenched in gold and jews on a throne that costs more than the lives of the people sitting below you tripled. You never liked sitting in elevated positions and degrading the commers with the way you're towering over them. But your father always said you should do so to remind them of your power and glory. you were never one to feel validation from power and glory, it never impacted you in that manner. Its hard staring into the eyes of the happy crowd knowing the event that is going to occur but what makes it worse is staring into the eyes of your lover while your 'husband' is sat next to you in his own throne. And unlike you he definitely likes the power and glory.

Jungkook is sat straight in line with your vision and he doesn't move his eyes away from you, not even once. You on the other hand keeped on shying away from his burning gaze and when you do he whipsers your name and says how beautiful you look and how your husband-to-be is ugly. he knows when he whipsers your name you can't ignore him and you hear all he says, it's like a prayer. It reminds you of the first time you taught him how to reach you directly.

"Just whisper it gently and passionatly" you say legs swing froma tree as he pays close attention to you. "I don't like it when people yell or say it aggressively." he notes down your likes and dislikes. Mentally and physically.

"you dont have to carry a physical note book to note down, jeon" you say to the man next to you.

"I want to remember everything, so that even if old age catches me and I cant remember anything I can always look back and remember" he turns his face from his book to face you with his warm and cute doe eyes. You love his eyes and unlike him you're not able to hold contact with them, its like their power overpowers yours. He's eyes have and unspeakable power that have captured you since the first day.

"You wont forget, kookie" a nickname he gave you gave to call him. "and I'll never let old age catch you" he chuckles at that as he feels your hand on his cheek. In an event where you to ended up together forever, because of his humanly fate, he'd grow old and die. While you live forever with your everlasting immaculate beauty. it was a sad fact for him but he accepted it. Atleast he gets to live his entire life with you. Even though you Suggested making him immortal, he declined. He never wanted to be with you so that he could be immortal, some moratls would call him foolish for saying no but they don't understand, they don't understand what he feels. He's not here to use you he just to be with you for however long he can.

"Let me make you immortal" you say so passionately hoping he says yes this time. "take it as my gift to you for bringing such joy into my life"

There you go speaking gibberish again, he thinks "i don't need a gift for making you happy, you're a gift for me already" he says and his eyes do sorcery on you, enchanting you not to argue with what he's said.

"I love you and I want to spend this little humanly life I have with you, not arguing about me becoming immortal" you can't argue with him. And all you can do is place a passionate kiss onto his lips which he happily accepts.

Somewhere in jungkook he knew the reason why he didn't want to become immortal, was the fear of living forever with her father's wrath for taking his daughter.

"And now we are gonna have the gift ceremony" the voice of the officient draws you out of your wonders. The gift ceremony is where offerings are given to the couple and even though you're gods and their gifts are meaningless, in value of course but you still appreciate the fact that people give them to you even though you know they do it to get blessings. It's an important part of the process and even though you don't like it you have to do it.

You watch people in the queue present their offerings. Some to you and some to the man next to you, you bless them as they do so. You scoff at how the man next to you feeds off the offerings of the people, that's one of the reasons you love jungkook. He's a selfless man, he doesn't feed off the power and glory. You remember the time he saved a litte bird and set it back in it's nest after you fixed its broken wing. Even though he never had any magical powers he did his best to help others.

"you don't need magical powers to be a good person" he once said to you. And you always smile at the memory.

Speaking of smiling, you watch jungkook smile in the queue as he aproaches quickly. You keep your eyes on him as you wonder what gift he could possibly give you.

Soon enough its his turn and you watch as he bows for you, something you never wanted him to do, but he always insisted. He lays down his gift.

"I hope you like my gift and can bless me adequately" he says as though he didn't just fuck you blind yesterday. His head is bowed to you and his knees on the the golden floor. When you catch his gift you gasp.

Oh jeon what have you done, do you not care for your life. You say in your mind. And like he can hear your thoughts he whipsers your name and speaks. "you are my life"

The ashes of a golden phoenix, given to a goddess on her wedding day by her husband. A symbol for the new golden life that will rise from the ashes. It's a gift only given by gods cause no human and afford the golden ashes of a golden phoenix. This gift is only given once and shows the enternal union between the giver and the receiver, if the receiver accepts.

"what type of gift is this?" the man seated next to you exclaims angrily. "how dare you give my wife a gift I'm meant to give her? How can you afford the ashes of a golden phoenix" at this point people start to stare and whisper at the scene.

"He must be a thief" he accuses. You watch jungkook's body which is still bowed to you. You cant believe he actually risked his life like this. Stupid mortal. Jungkook chuckles like he isn't being yelled at by a god and at risk of death.

"You dare laugh?" he dares to strike but you stop him.

"Leave him" everyone stares at you with surpise.

"Why should I leave someone who dares to discredit my honour and glory"

Fuck your honour and glory, you dont deserve it. Jungkook is the one who deserves to be seated in that seat, you want to say but you can't instead you keep it in your heart.

"I say leave him cause he's just a foolish and stupid mortal who doesn't know what he's doing" you say and jungkook's head lifts to finally meet your eyes. There is truth in your statement but its not as harsh as you say it, and jungkook knows he can see it in your eyes that avoid his. He knows what he's doing.

"And its not like im going to accept it anyways, he probably stole it from the poor phoenix. I don't accept stolen gifts" you finally meet his eyes and he can hear lies you're telling.

The man seems to have relaxed by your reassurance. "Fine I wont punish him because of my wife's mercy"

You and jungkook gag at that internally. "But wont you bless me?" jungkook asks you confidently.

"The nerves, you dare ask her to bless you after the scene you have just caused you." he spits at jungkook. "its her duty t-"

"Fine ill bless you" you say stopping jungkook from ruining his chance at life. "What would you like me to bless you for" jungkook smiles at the opportunity you've given him

"I ask that fate may always be on me and my lover's side" your heart pulls at his request. What is jungkook doing, he could've taken this chance to free himself from you and the danger you carry for them. He could've gone in to find maiden who he would spend the rest of his life with and have children with, even if it hurts you its better for him. But he's so stubborm. He's a very attractive man no maiden would say no to him. So why doesn't he just go that route.

I don't want to go into road where you won't be.

"it is done" you say, and it surely is done.

You don't know how to feel, a part of you wishes jungkook could have just gone away to a better life, but then another part of you knows a better life is when you're with him.

Jungkook knows the consequences, the risk, the challenge. he knows it all and he still wants to be with you as he said nothing is going to stop him not even you and your attenpt to push him away by not accepting the gift. He didn't do all this for nothing, he's not going to let his efforts go into water. And lucky for him fate is on his side even though you don't want to accept it, worrying about what will happen.

"What do you mean his name won't write" your father asks the officiant his voice thunderous at the revelation. Everyone is in a panic and in a shock, your mother, your father and your never-gonna-be husband. Even the people are whispering and gossiping theories. But you arent surprised. Jungkook is not surprised. You knew this would happen you expected it.and your heartbeat grew strong as the moment drew closer amd Jungkook's smile grew wider. People were gonna know who you were fated with.

"His name cannot be written for fate has written another's name" the white bearded officiant speaks. Fate is never wrong and there are no take backs with fate. What fate decides is what's gonna be and even if you try to run from it fate will bring you back to what's destined for you, even if it takes a million more tries.

"Who's name?" your father asks angry from this embarrassment.

"It's a mortal" you can hear a thousand plus gasps in the hall "his name is jun-" it's like he's taking his time saying it on purpose, when he gives you a look you immediately turn to the crowd scared eyes meetng jungkook. You know what's gonna happen when they find out the name of the mortal and so before he says his name. You immediately scream.

"JUNGKOOK GO!" Your voice thunders in the hall. And he does. He goes, to where? he doesn't know but he knows you'll know and you'll find him.

Just as the crowd opens up so jungkook can run out your father screams for thunder. But jungkook is protected not by you, but by yor mother's power and the part of you that's in him.

You turn to your mother who rushes to grab you from the chaos. She takes you to the open room, where all official meeting are held.

"is he -" she knows what your worry is.

"He's gonna be perfectly fine" she comforts you. And you begin to weep and you're glad you have your mother's arms to fall into. She understands and knows your pain, she to was once in love with a mortal, unlucky for her fate was not on her side but love was, it wasn't enough and he died.

"where is it?" your father walks in yelling "where is the tattoo that bound you to that mortal" you shiver under your mother's hold as your father grabs your arm to pull you from your mother. Which he does. "I will srcap it myself" he says to you coldly and you don't expect more from him. "if I have to I will cut the limb its on... NOW WHERE IS IT?" he says starting to tear the sillk covering your body. You cant do much apart from scream and try and stop him.

"you cant disobey fate!" Your mother exclaims and he drops your hand now approaching your mother who doesn't coward from him.

"i don't care about fate, I am a god and I'm  more powerful than fate" he exclaims. "my word is fate"

"And after I scrap that tattoo off her, she'll be married to Min-ho" you sob even more your cries causing a storm outside. And whereever jungkook is , he knows by the way the thunder roars and the lighting strikes he can tell what you feel. Anger, fear and sadness. He wishes badly to be with you but your mother warned him he should go away for a while. And she promised to help him when the time is right.

"Where is it ?" he asks and you try to collect your thoughts.

Before he can ask you again you speak "my heart..." you speak finally saying  where it is.

"You let a mortal engrave on your heart?" he's pissed and you can tell but you aren’t afraid of him. All you're thinking about is jungkook. Is he okay?, is he safe, is he even alive? "a mortal?" he asks again. He knows a mortal does not contain enough power (or any at all) to engrave on a god's heart.

"He's not a mortal" both you and your father turn to your mother who speaks. "He's not a mortal" she repeats.

"What do you mean?" he asks and you too pay attention to her as you wonder what she means. "you made that idiot immortal" his anger is now moving to your mother, but she doesn't fear him.

"No I didn't, she did" your mother nods to you and you widen your eyes prepared to defend yourself.

"I never made him immortal" you defend when your father's eyes burn holes in you.

"Actually you did" your mother says and you wonder if your mother is on your side. But she is on your side. "gods don't engrave their names on mortals hearts and then nothinghappens after" she continues.

"whoever told you to engrave your name on his heart might not have told you, but by doing that you made him immortal."

And then you remember who you went to for help.

Hoseok, the cast out god himself; your uncle.

"You're so rebellious huh? Wanna be like me" he asks you mockingly when you explained everything to him.

"If I do end up like you atleast I'll have somewhere to go" you say and he chuckles at that. He's always told you that if you ever became rebellious you'd have a home with him and that still stands.

So hoseok helped you, he got jungkook's name engraved in his. He's the god of marriage and prosperity after all.

He's the one who told you to engrave on jungkook's heart, in any other situation he'd be worried for jungkook that he might die but the fact that jungkook and you we're fated (he doesn't know how and he still wonders) he knew instead of killing jungkook it'd make him immortal.

Unlike in his sister's case she had begged hoseok for the same thing that you are begging for, but only she was not fated to the mortal. And even if he told her what would have happened she still begged and he did it. And expectedly  the mortal died.

Your mother still feels guilt and curses her hope and how hopeful she was that maybe he would've survived.

You wonder if jungkook knows he's immortal and if he did know why didn't he tell you. Now you understand why jungkook's presence and gaze caused much pressure, no mortal could've had such an effect on you. And why he became immune to you gaze and touch.

Your heart relaxes knowing that your father can't kill jungkook, but that doesn't stop him from being cast out like hoseok.

Wherever jungkook is he grunts and groans at the feeling that pulls at his heart. He lays down as his tattoos flicker on-off like a bulb.

"Hurts to be away from your love right?" Hoseok asks giving him something to drink.

Jungkook nods. He knows who hoseok is, so it's not weird being in his presence but he doesn't know how he got here. But hoseok remembers he's sister's instructions.

"Watch for him and when you see him take him with you" she says the day of the wedding knowing what would unfold.  After hoseok told her what was going in with you, she knew what was going to unfold and she needed a plan. "He needs your help. Train him to embrace and use his power"

Hoseok's home was simple, warm and comforting, but he misses your presence.

"Well you're going to have to deal with it a little longer cause you won't be able to see her anytime soon"

☆☆☆

#fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungguk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook jeon #jeongguk #jeon jeongkook #jeon jeongguk #bts imagines #bts fantasy au #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts fic

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 2

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (still not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon what canon

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So... this was posted prematurely a couple hours ago. This is the actual finished longer version. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank god. Sorry this took so long, lmao

Just letting you guys know that my knowledge of the lore is purely based off of the movies and the Dune wiki rabbit hole I fell into right after watching part two. I also took a few liberties with the canon here.

I'm super open to constructive criticism, or any criticism at all (feel free to absolutely roast me). Like I mentioned, I've never written fanfic before so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The evening of your first day in Giedi Prime was celebrated with a banquet where you were introduced to the most important people on the planet. You've heard many stories of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Harkonnens, hence surprised by the courtly welcome during the dinner. Although you did your best to politely ignore the Baron who floated at the head of the table being fed by servants.

You were sat beside his nephew who, despite your mother's education, has evaded your insight. You couldn't quite get a read on him.

Feyd-Rautha whispers to you amid the buzzing conversations of the banquet hall, "are you enjoying the food, little hawk?"

You shoot him a questioning look.

"I like your hairpin," he sneers.

You resist from reaching to touch the Atreides symbol affixed in your hair.

"We don't see such ornaments often here." He quietly laughs in his devilish way, only too amused with himself.

Ah, you realize. He means to torment you.

"Seems early for pet names," you say, picking at your plate, "we've only just met."

"Oh, and yet we are to be wed in less than a week's time," his raspy voice rings in your ear, "I should like to be familiar with my future wife, Lady Atreides."

The marriage pact had been signed when you were only a little girl. Inheriting your father's inclinations, you swore you would uphold your duty, undeterred by the gruesome and abhorrent stories about the Harkonnens—because you knew that centuries of conflict could end within a generation with this union. You were a willing bride.

And yet.

You give him a smile that, to those not privy to your conversation, would seem genuine, "You know nothing of me, na-Baron."

"I should like to learn," you doubt his sincerity but care not enough to discern it. He takes a smug bite of a forkful of meat, "perhaps tomorrow, you shall learn something of me."

The following morning Iassa helps you into another black gown, this time with a veil in anticipation of the black sun.

"Is it not dangerous for Feyd-Rautha to wager his life for a show?" you question.

"The na-Baron is a skilled fighter, my lady. He will emerge victorious," Iassa is straight-faced as she drapes the veil over you.

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but given he is the Baron's heir. Does it not seem a touch irresponsible to even risk it at all."

Not that you actually cared for his life, you just expected that the Harkonnens would be concerned with the preservation of their house regardless of their brutality. You recall your grandfather who got himself killed fighting bulls for sport.

"The na-Baron will be fighting war prisoners. They will be drugged beforehand. It is perfectly safe, my lady."

"Oh." You couldn't decide if you were disappointed or not, "I see."

Iassa seemed intent on dropping the subject, so you do.

You stand before a mirror and take a look at yourself. It is impossible not to be reminded of your mother. She was never one for vanity, but you like to think there was a part of her that always enjoyed the elegant dresses she and you 'had' to wear. You allow yourself a somber smile behind your veil.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Iassa curtsies.

"Thank you," you look at her bowed figure, gray robes made more dull by the stark black choker on her neck. You were sure she was at least 2 standard years younger than you are and it had only been a few months since you came of age. You wondered if she liked pretty dresses too.

Before you can ask her, there is a knock at your door.

The house steward, Jaromir, clears his throat when Iassa opens it for you, "The na-Baron requests your presence before he enters the arena."

Heavy doors open for you in one of the chambers beneath the arena. You are greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Feyd-Rautha being helped into his armor by a servant.

"Lady Atreides," he looks you up and down, "I hope you slept well."

You bow your head in acknowledgment.

"Your knives, master," a large man whom you assume to be the bladesmith presents Feyd-Rautha with two daggers.

The young Harkonnen takes one and caresses the blade with his fingers.

"I've come to wish the brave na-Baron well before his fight in the arena," you say in false earnestness.

He smiles at your inflation of his ego.

"Though I must say, I am relieved it is all for show. I would not like to see my groom wounded before we are wed."

"For show?" Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and you see his arrogant facade show the slightest crack.

"Yes, I've heard your opponents will be drugged will they not?" your voice dripping with innocence, "to ensure your safety, of course."

His grip on the dagger tightens, "and where did you hear this exactly?"

You sense the awkwardness and tension in the servants. The one who had helped don Feyd-Rautha's armor has quietly retreated to the far side of the chamber. There is a subtle tremble in the hands of one holding a plate of towels. You finally notice the three women piled upon a raised platform glaring at you.

"Just voices around the fortress," you shrug.

A deep breath recovers Feyd-Rautha's smug expression. "Call for the warden," he orders one of the guards by the door, "tell him to prepare new prisoners. Sober ones."

"My lord, you need not endanger yourself," you feign worry.

"Nonsense." The na-Baron walks closer to tower over you, "My lady bride deserves to see my true prowess."

He sees through your challenge, but you don't care. Seeing his self-satisfied smirk wiped from his face for even just a second was worth it.

"Besides," he turns away from you to inspect the second knife, "my darlings enjoy meat that's fought for its life."

The three women sneer at this and you see their sharp teeth as they hiss amongst themselves.

You've heard of Feyd-Rautha's concubines long before you arrived on Giedi Prime. Tales of their taste for human flesh were one of the things that tested your resolve in fulfilling the marriage pact. You didn't mind that the na-Baron would keep other women. It would result in less of his attentions on yourself, you figured. It was their perverse appetite that nauseated you.

A look of revulsion hides behind your veil which you sense they would be all too happy to rip to shreds.

"I will see you in the stands, little hawk," Feyd-Rautha whispers to you as he waves for a guard to escort you out.

You do your best to drown out the noise of what seemed to be a countless audience that came to see the na-Baron fight. You could understand now why they uphold such brutal traditions. The people are so excited for it.

On the other side of the arena, you sense Vladimir Harkonnen watching you from the Baron's Box that towered over the whole arena. The blazing sun only helps you avoid looking in his direction. You were sat at a viewing box, still for nobility and separated from the masses, but much lower and closer to the sands of the arena. Jaromir had told you that you were to 'give the na-Baron your favor'.

Before long, the master of ceremonies announces Feyd-Rautha's entrance in Giedi Prime Speech. They are celebrating his betrothal to you and the union of Harkonnen and Atreides, you translate in your head. You wonder if the people care for the politics of the Great Houses. They seemed no less excited to cheer at your name despite the centuries-old blood feud.

Massive doors open as the na-Baron walks into the arena. His arms outstretched holding his knives like an extension of his limbs. He riles up the crowd as he walks towards the Baron's Box and kneels to his uncle. He then rises and walks toward you, smirking under the stark light of the black sun.

You may not fear earning the Harkonnens' contempt, but you were the Duke of Caladan's daughter and you knew that the favor of the people was invaluable.

You stand and walk to the edge of the viewing box. The glowing smile you reveal as you lift your veil draws cheers from the crowd that rival what Feyd-Rautha received. You produce a pure white handkerchief from your dress pocket and make a show of kissing it and waving the cloth at the buzzing crowd. You throw it off the edge and it floats toward the na-Baron who had moved both daggers to one hand to catch it. He looks up at you with what you think could be the seeds of respect and tucks the cloth into the tight armband around his right bicep.

He turns back to the audience and raises his knives in a war cry. The crowd explodes in guttural cheers and applause. Feyd-Rautha takes his position in the middle of the arena as his first opponent is released into the white sands.

You've heard of the Harkonnen heir's aptitude in single combat. It's time to see if the stories were true or if it was just another part of their menacing facade.

You were handed a pair of spyglasses to observe with. The two fighters approach each other, the prisoner wielding a knife of his own. Feyd-Rautha holds a taunting stance. The prisoner was sober, you were sure, but even without the spyglasses, you could see he was weak. You surmised the Harkonnen cells weren't very hospitable. He attempts a swipe but the na-Baron parries with ease. Another and the na-Baron dodges. Zooming in, you could see Feyd-Rautha's twisted amusement. He was toying with the poor man—and the people loved it.

The crowds cheered at the clashing of metal, thundering when the na-Baron drew first blood by slashig his opponent's arm. It wasn't long before Feyd-Rautha's dagger had impaled the prisoner's heart. There was no pause before a second prisoner was brought out to meet a similar fate.

Feyd-Rautha stood unwounded, seething with exhilaration. He enjoyed this; the thrill of killing. He basked in the roar of the crowd. You had never ended a life before, but some deep part of you could almost understand how he felt in that moment.

A third prisoner enters the arena. He looked older than the first two, bearded and taller. He reminded you of Gurney Halleck, the Atreides Warmaster. This man certainly wasn't at his prime but you could tell he would not go down as easily as the first two.

The warrior holds his blade out in a firm fighting stance, refusing to make the first move. You notice picadors in black suits have entered the arena, circling the na-Baron and his opponent. Feyd-Rautha lunges at the prisoner and a quick series of parries from both sides occur. You see the finesse in the na-Baron's movement. He recognizes his opponent's skill and he is taking this one seriously. You were not sure what you expected of the Harkonnen's fighting style but Feyd-Rautha was vicious but precise. The crowd gasps when the prisoner disarms one of the na-Baron's knives. The warrior manages to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha's armed hand and aims to pierce the na-Baron's neck with his blade. The na-Baron struggled against his hold and the arid air was thick with anticipation.

You were unsure what outcome you desired as you stared through your spyglass. Perhaps this warrior kills your betrothed. What then? Would you really be able to go back to Caladan's windy cliffs again? Return to the arms of your mother as if it were all a bad dream? You wonder if when Feyd-Rautha becomes baron, and you his baroness, could you convince him to let you see your family.

The warrior's blade was dangerously close to your future husband's throat when one of the picadors lashes at the warrior. The na-Baron growls at the offending picador as the warrior is weakened. Feyd-Rautha pushes him off and allows him a moment to recover, taunting him to try again. Blades clash once more and after a sequence of quick ferocious movements, Feyd-Rautha's blade slashes the warrior's throat. Blood made black by the infrared of the sun splatters onto the na-Baron. He licks the darkness that landed on his lips. Heaving, he takes your bloodied handkerchief off his armband and raises it to you and the roaring crowd.

You did not even realize you were already standing, breathless at the sight.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore

#feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune #dune part two #baron harkonnen #baron vladimir harkonnen #house harkonnen #house atreides #giedi prime #austin butler #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

[ladyinwriting18]

A Loyal Death Eater (Severus Snape x Reader)

Summary: Severus comes home to find he's been left a gift from The Dark Lord--you.

Words: 4901 Warnings: PIV, Human Given As A Gift, Master/Servant, Pet Names, Fingering, Oral Male Receiving, Dirty Talk. Author's Note: Hiiii if you know me then welcome back--WILL I EVER STICK TO ONE FANDOM TO WRITE FOR? The answer is no lol If this is your first time reading my writing then welcome! I hope you enjoy my first ever Snape one-shot!

Severus Snape is tired. So very tired. Tired of living this double life. Death Eater. The Order. Following Dumblerdor’s orders. Secretly protecting Harry. Funneling particular information to Voldemort for the sake of keeping up appearances. All while teaching potions. The vein in his temple throbs at the mere thought of his students. He doesn’t want to think about them now. He doesn't want to think about anything. All Severus Snape wants is to bury his face into a pillow. And that’s exactly his plan as he walks into his home and heads up the stairs towards his room... That is until he notices the piece of parchment stuck to the bedroom door. He’s immediately on high alert. Tension has his spine straight and his shoulders up by his ears. With his wand drawn, he creeps closer, ready to hex whatever intruder has managed to sneak into his home. But the signature at the bottom gives him pause. Why the hell was The Dark Lord leaving him handwritten notes? Dark eyes scan the entire letter. “To my most loyal Death Eater. I’ve left you a gift. A reward for all of your hard work. Use it however you wish and dispose of it when you’re done with it.”  Severus raises a brow. It? What exactly was waiting for him on the other side of the door?

There was only one way to find out. With a heavy sigh, he pushes open the door, but what he finds stops him dead in his tracks. A woman sits kneeling on the floor beside his bed. Your head is bowed with your hands placed palms up atop your thighs. But the most shocking thing is that you’re completely naked except for a black and green garter belt on your right thigh. “What is the meaning of this?” he commands, still in a mild state of shock at the scene before him. You, however, do not stir, keeping your body still. “Hello, Master. It is a pleasure to meet you. How may I serve you tonight?”  Your voice is warm…feminine…inviting. It draws Severus in and has him stepping into the room. But the closer he gets to you, the more your words sink in. “Forgive me…serve me?” You nod. “Yes, Master. I belong to you now. For as long as you want me.” The realization hits him like a bludger to the face. “You’re…my gift.” You nod again. “From the Dark Lord.” “And why would the Dark Lord send me a human as a gift?” The disgust in his voice isn’t directed at you, but you respond nonetheless. “To use as you see fit. I am yours and any desire my Master has is mine to fulfill.” He doesn’t know a single soul alive or dead who wouldn’t be tempted by such an offer. And though his heart had been lowered into the ground on the same day that Lily’s body was, he is still a man. A man with needs that he hasn’t even dreamt of allowing himself to feel. He’s standing directly in front of you now. “Look at me,” he commands You eagerly obey, and look up at him with large doe eyes. You stare at him with your gaze filled with willingness. He searches your eyes, attempting to find even an ounce of fear or disgust but finds nothing but devotion. As if you truly want nothing more than to serve.

His mouth goes dry and all of his body’s blood supply seems to be traveling south to his cock. This is wrong. Who knows what the Dark Lord had threatened you with…or where he had stolen you from. But everything about you screams submission. It awakens a darker side of himself. One that he hasn’t felt stirring since he was a young, newly appointed Death Eater. Back then Lucius Malfoy would hire girls and throw secret parties down in the dungeons below his estate. It was at these “parties” that Severus found his proclivity for knots…and magically binding girls to the ceiling so he could fuck them until they were begging to cum. It’s a time that he wishes he could scrub clean. Not only from his mind but from the history books of his life. Shame had accompanied him at those parties because he knew this was a part of him that he couldn’t share with Lilly. Even if James Potter had never been in the picture and Lilly had somehow been his. She was too lovely and sweet for that sort of depravity. She would have never enjoyed such things. And he would never— “Master?” Your voice pulls him from his thoughts, his eyes focusing back on you just as you reach out to take his hand. Your grip is so light, almost as if you’re worried your touch will offend him. “I want to please you. Want to give you whatever it is you need. Please? All I want is to be a good girl for you.” A good girl. His cock throbs. How you knew exactly what to say, baffles him. Perhaps you were a skilled Legilimens—allowing you a peek into his thoughts. Either way, you said the phrase that never failed to stop him in his tracks. He grips your hand more firmly and lets his other move to your cheek—to see if you’ll flinch at his touch. But, bloody hell, you lean into his palm and press your lips to the pad of his thumb. Never once averting your gaze. He lets out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. You’re all his.  “You said you’ll fulfill any request?” His thumb grazes over your bottom lip, opening it to reveal the tiniest bit of the inside of your mouth. “Anything,” you concur. His mind races with endless possibilities. He hasn’t tapped into this part of himself in years. It makes him antsy to claim you. But Severus Snape is not a rash man. He does not allow his emotions to make him sloppy. He is cunning and calculating. And more importantly, he knows exactly how he’ll have you prove yourself. He slides his foot forward, placing his black leather dress shoe in front of you. “Kiss it.” Immediately, you obey, positioning yourself on all fours before leaning down to press your lips to the tip. But you don’t stop there. In fact, you cover the entire top of his shoe with kisses. With each kiss, you let out a soft, sweet noise–as if this act of obedience is actually bringing you pleasure. 

Severus lets out a rough command, “Don’t stop.” You don’t, lowering your upper body further onto the floor, but purposely keeping your hips in the air to showcase the curve of your ass. Your kisses turn to licks, making the top of his boot glisten with your spit. The sight of both almost makes him lose control. “Keep going,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling his cock pulsing within the constraints of his pants. You pull your torso off the floor, moving closer to him so you can start kissing and nuzzling your way up the length of his leg. Not once do you break eye contact. You look at him without fear, without disgust, without judgment. 

It's an unusual occurrence for him. He’s used to his students being intimidated by the mere mention of his name. Even in his school days, he had never been known as a looker. But this is different. You are different. You look at him with reverence and lust while you continue your path up his leg. However, once you reach his groin, you stop and sit back on your heels. You return to your earlier position, with your feet tucked under you and your hands resting palms up atop your knees. You’re so submissive. It’s perfection. “You’re waiting for my command, aren’t you?” he asks, moving his hand to hover over the bulge in his pants.

Your eyes dart at the movement of his hand that’s now slowly rubbing his erection through his pants. You seem transfixed but still manage to reply.

“Yes, Master. I’m your property. My sole purpose is to please you.”

“My property?” he breathes, freeing his aching cock from his trousers.  

He watches with satisfaction when your eyes widen at the sight of it. 

You only nod, too busy watching as he starts to slowly stroke the shaft of his cock. He does this more to tease you than for his own pleasure. It clearly works because you fidget ever so slightly. “You’re my property,” he repeats, louder to refocus you. “My beautiful…little good girl.” Severus pants between words, stroking himself with a firmer grip.

“Yes, Master,” you moan with a lick of your lips. “I’m your good girl.”

“Then prove it by sucking your Master’s cock.” 

You almost take him by surprise with how fast you rise onto your knees. Gently, you nudge his hand away before wrapping your own around the base of his cock. You hold eye contact with him while tracing your tongue over the veins in his shaft. “You taste so good,” you moan out and drag your tongue along the underside until you reach the tip. You clearly know what you’re doing. Severus swears his heart beats in time with the flicking of your tongue. Your hand and mouth work simultaneously—tugging firmly while playfully licking. That is until your hand falls away so you can swallow his cock whole. “Bloody hell,” he swears, involuntarily bucking his hips forward.  

Pleased by his reaction, you hum and tighten your lips around him as you pick up your pace, bobbing your head up and down while sucking him off. He watches you intently. His dark brown eyes burn almost black as you suck him off like your life depended on it. “The good girl is enjoying this, isn’t she?” he hotly whispers, cock stiffening in your mouth. You nod with a mischievous twinkle in your eye. The sounds of you slurping and sucking with such passion sends Severus into a frenzy. His fingers twitch with the need to touch you. Your mouth is warm and so fucking inviting, like his cock was always meant to be there. He wants…no—needs more. No longer able to keep his hands to himself, Severus’ hand grips the back of your head. Long, nimble fingers tangle within the locks of your hair and start to move you up and down at just the right pace. Obeying his physical commands, you allow him to fuck your mouth while you drool all over him. So much so that he can feel saliva dripping onto his balls. Fuck you were messy. He loves it. Almost too much. But you’re looking at him with an affectionate gaze and it only makes him want more. Both of his hands grip onto your head, thrusting his hips forward so he could slam his cock into your throat. Your hands grab his thighs to try to hold yourself steady and not gag. “That’s it,” he grunts, “choke on your Master’s cock.” You groan with brows knitting together while saliva drips from the corner of your mouth. Severus would have thought he was being too rough if it wasn’t for your crumpled, pleasure-stricken face. He allows himself a moment to take you all in, wanting to commit you to his memory. So that when you’re gone, he’ll still have this image of you prettily sucking his cock. That’s when he notices you pressing your thighs together. Fire pools within his rib cage. You’re actually getting off on this. On pleasing him. On gagging on him. On obeying him. Suddenly, having you down on your knees isn’t enough. “Stand up,” he commands and forcefully pulls away, slipping his cock from your mouth. You take a moment to catch your breath and wipe the spit from your chin. Wanting to give you time to compose yourself, he keeps himself busy by stripping fully out of his clothing and casting a quick protection and contraceptive spell with a few flicks of his wand. By the time you’re on your feet, he’s standing before you naked. Your eyes run over his form and take a step forward with hands outstretched as if you want to touch. He doesn’t give you the chance. Instead, he places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you backward until your knees hit the side of his bed and you fall back onto the mattress with a surprised yelp. Your gaze shifts, looking at him towering over you with large eyes. He steps forward, nudging your knees apart with his leg. “Be a good girl and open wider for me.” Your knees fall apart, giving him a full view of your cunt. 

“You’re so wet,” he breathes, in awe that you’re already dripping when he hasn’t so much as touched you. Calloused fingertips run up your inner thighs. The skin there is tender so you shiver until they make contact with your cunt and a chorus of sweet melodies leave your parted lips. You greedily grind into his touch, already wanting more. With a grin, he enjoys himself as he plays with you. He prods your opening and watches your eyelids flutter close. “What a needy cunt you have.” He means it as a compliment, but it’s laced with a snark that’s meant to embarrass you. It works, color flushing over your cheeks. “It’s your cunt now, Master. All of me is yours.” It’s clear that being owned is a massive turn-on for you. And if he’s honest, he’s more than happy to play this game. “That’s right,” he breathes, fingers tracing up towards your clit. “Every inch of you is mine. Including your clit.” He applies pressure to the sensitive bud, causing you to whine and twitch. You nearly come undone from how skillfully he draws circles on your clit. But every time you buck your hips forward, his fingers move away.  “More Master. Please, give me more.” You whine and twitch, pleading sweetly. So sweetly that it’s impossible for him to continue teasing you. His fingers move to your entrance, and he plunges them inside your tightness.  You cry out in surprise, both hands grabbing ahold of the arm pressed between your thighs. His fingers are long and thick, moving in and out in slick quick thrusts. He finger fucks you mercilessly and you love it. 

You toss your head back, mouth falling open wide as you moan towards the ceiling.

Severus leans in, caging you beneath his body, and nuzzles his nose along the side of your face. His body is pressed against yours now and you gasp at the feeling of his hard cock leaking precum on your thigh.  “Master…” you whimper, and he chuckles before whispering hotly into your ear. “This belongs to me as well. This tight dripping cunt is mine. Is that understood?” he asks while picking up the pace of his fingers. You struggle to respond, tripping over your words but he doesn’t relent—wanting you to work through the pleasure. “Y-Yes. Yes, Master! I-I understand.” He hums his praise, calling you a good girl before falling silent. For the next few minutes, the only sounds heard are the sounds of your desperate cries and the wet squelching sounds of your cunt. Your orgasm is drawing closer, threatening to take you over. “I…I’m going to–” But your words aren’t needed because Severus knows what a woman looks like before she’s about to cum. “I know, sweet thing,” he cuts you off, looking at you and holding eye contact. “But cumming for me is a privilege. One you must ask for.” You nod your head, gripping his arm tighter, “May I cum? Please let me cum for my Master?”  With a proud grin, he says the three most glorious words. “Cum for me.” The permission is all you need, the cord inside you snapping. 

Your body goes rigid and your ability to speak is replaced with breathy, unrestrained moans. Your orgasm hits you hard, but it’s only when you limply slump back onto the mattress that he carefully removes his fingers from you. They’re soaked in your juices. Severus suddenly finds himself very parched. You’re looking up at him with a flushed face and glossed-over eyes but are clearly too focused on catching your breath. So, he lets you watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean. You make a noise of surprise, mesmerized by his mouth. Satisfied with this small taste of you, he releases his fingers with a soft ‘pop’. “Mmmh, delicious.”  “I’m glad Master thinks so. Thank you for letting me cum,” you murmur politely.

And just when he thought you couldn’t be any more perfect. Sitting beside you on the bed, he grabs your upper arms and hauls you towards him. He crashes his lips onto yours, forcing his tongue inside of your mouth. You return the kiss in a flurry of passion as your hands begin to roam freely over his body. Starting from his shoulder, you trail your hands down his bare chest to his hip bones. He moans into your mouth, enjoying the feeling of your soft hands and the way you gently suck at his tongue. Your hands continue downward until your fingertips brush against his still very hard cock. He breaks the kiss with a smirk. “Is there something you want, Little One?” You brush your lips against his with a nod. “I want to help my Master to cum.” He can already guess what you’re about to say, but still, Severus tucks a lock of hair behind your ear and whispers, “And how do you plan to do that?” “However you’d like me to.” Your answer is immediate but something tells him it isn’t the entire truth. His fingers grip your jaw, tilting it so you’re forced to maintain eye contact with him. “Tell me how you want to make your Master cum.” With wide eyes, the truth pours from your mouth like uncorked wine. “My cunt. Please use my cunt.” Your plea is so desperate that he doesn’t waste any more time leaning in closer until you have to shift your position to lay back on the bed. With a nudge to your thighs, your legs part to accommodate him as he places a hand beside your head, trapping you beneath him. He’s settled between your thighs now with his cock pressed against your core. You moan in unison at the contact. As if it’s painful for both of you to not have him buried inside. 

Your hands run from his forearms, over his shoulders, and down his chest. “Take me, please. Let me feel my Master’s cock inside.”

He straightens his back and guides your legs to wrap around his waist fully. You continue to plead, but instead of giving you a verbal reply, he plunges balls deep inside of you. You both instantly tense. He, because of the tightness of your walls clinging around him, and you, because of the sudden intrusion of his cock demanding to be taken. “That’s it. Taking me so well,” he breathlessly praises, slowly moving out, then back in so you’d have time to adjust. Severus had always refused to inflict pain on his partners that they hadn’t consented to and begged for. And he isn’t about to start now. So he waits until he feels you relax.

Your head lulls to the side with a moan, feeling beyond stuffed full, but also whole.

You coo, arching into him. Severus knew he couldn’t keep his movements slow for much longer.

“Is this what you want? To be fucked until I own this cunt?” “Yes!” you whine, starting to grind your hips in an attempt to get his cock deeper. “I want my Master to ruin me for anyone else.” It’s the word ruin that does him in. Unable to wait any longer he slams into you. You yelp, grabbing ahold of his forearms and sinking your nails into his flesh. The slight bite of pain only spurs him on, his pace anything but slow. The rough and steady rhythm of his thrusts has you already clenching around him. 

He isn’t sure where to look. At your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure, or at your cunt that’s currently swallowing him whole. You toss your head back, slightly obscuring you from his view. So he settles his gaze downward–watching how his cock glistens from your juices every time he pulls out. It’s an intoxicating sight.

One that threatens to force him to spill himself inside of you. But he won’t. Not yet. Not until he’s done enjoying you for a bit longer. Not until he can make you cum again. He grabs some of your hair and tugs so you’re forced to look back at him. “You love this, don’t you? Using your cunt to please me?” Your legs wrap even tighter around his waist, drawing closer…deeper. “Yes, Master! Feels so good pleasing you!” Pressure builds in your lower belly from the orgasm that’s steadily approaching. It feels like he’s everywhere. In you. On you. All over you. “M-Master I—so close. P-Please.” 

You’re struggling to form words but he already knows what you’re trying to say. He reaches between your bodies to your clit and rubs it, strokes it, and draws circles on it until he finds the touch that has you babbling in broken, indecipherable sentences.

“I want you to cum,” he speaks in labored breaths, teasing your clit while still spearing you on his length. “I want you to cum for me now.”

For a moment, you fall completely silent, but then it hits. The unfiltered, beautiful howls that accompany your climax. All the while, your inner walls close around him in the most delicious way. He curses, lurching forward as you gush and spasm around him. It’s too much, and he’s quickly following you over the edge, filling you with his cum. You both tremble through your aftershocks, unable to detangle from one another while coming down from your highs. He feels like a new man after cumming for the first time in God knows how long. But one look at you and your sleep-heavy eyes has him focusing on steadying his breathing faster. Memories from his past return to him, and words like aftercare play through his mind. It displeases him that he doesn’t know what you require right now—space or intimacy? Deciding it’s best to take the middle ground, he slowly slips out of you but sits on the edge of the bed beside you. He takes the utmost care not to jostle you but you don’t seem to notice because you’ve already turned onto your side facing him. You make yourself comfortable, curling up with your eyes closed and a relaxed smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Relieved, he lets out a breath and runs his hand through his dark locks to move it off his face. “That felt amazing. Thank you, Master,” you mumble happily into his pillow. “Call me Severus.” “As you wish, Master Severus.” A spark of warmth emanates from his chest. He likes the way you say his name. It makes him feel things. He reaches for you, tugging you into his arms to help you sit up. At first, you whine, but relax when he pulls you to sit between his thighs and leans you against his chest. He holds you close and whispers, “Will you tell me your name?” You peek up at him with a smile and say it. He repeats it, liking the way your name rolls off his tongue. You nod, your smile widening across your face. He can’t stop himself from stroking your cheek. “I’ll be right back.” He stands, making his way over to his wardrobe. “Get yourself ready for bed, Little One.” He calls from over his shoulder as he uses his wand for a simple cleansing spell. Since you’ve managed to coat even his balls in your slick. 

Afterward, he slips on a pair of black silk pajama pants. He’s about to put a shirt on when he turns back to you, expecting to find you dressed, but instead, he finds you sitting on his bed and watching him. “Where are your night robes?” You fidget uncomfortably, looking away. Severus should have known this wouldn’t last. He tries to disguise his disappointment but fails. “If you don’t wish to stay, then just say so.” The ice in his voice is evident and you snap your head up in his direction. “I-It’s not that!” you protest. “I want to stay. I just…don’t have any clothes.” His frown deepens, “The Dark Lord didn’t leave your clothes here for you?” You shake your head ‘no’. This only confuses him further. To have you waiting for him nude was clearly meant to entice him, but to leave you with nothing to wear after doesn’t make sense. “No personal belongings at all? I don’t understand how he expected you to get home after this.” You flinch, once again looking away. “He said…” you trail off. “Never mind, Master.” He didn’t need spells or potions to see the discomfort radiating off of you. With the long-sleeved shirt he had intended for himself in hand, he makes his way over to you. Of course, he could have simply conjured you some clothing, but if he’s being honest with himself— He wants you wrapped up in him for a while longer. “Arms up.”

You lift your head and see the shirt in his hands. You obey, and he slips the shirt over your head to help you dress. “It’s a tad big on you, but it will do until morning.” You pull your knees to your chest while muttering a ‘thank you’. There’s still something bothering you and Severus is determined to figure out what it is. “Look at me,” he commands, knowing you’ll obey. When you do, he continues, “Tell your Master what’s bothering you.” Perhaps it isn’t right for him to pull the ‘dom’ card when you aren’t technically his submissive, but he needs the truth. You stall for a little longer, gnawing on your bottom lip until you finally respond, “The Dark Lord told me that I didn’t need to pack any of my things because he didn’t believe you’d want me after you were through with me.” “I see…What else did the Dark Lord tell you?”

“That I belong to whoever comes into the room, and that I was to serve them until they no longer had use for me. Which he predicted would be just for tonight…Then he–” You falter, bravery abandoning you. He lets out a breath, resisting the urge to scrub at his eyes. Of course, he had threatened you. Placing a finger underneath your chin, he gently raises it. Your eyes flutter, struggling to meet his gaze. “You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?” You only nod. “You have my word that you’re under my protection now. Do you understand?” You nod again and summon your bravery so you can continue. “Then he said that maybe he would pass me around to the other Death Eaters or maybe he’d use me himself.” Severus can’t explain the jealousy that boils within him. But it’s there. Hot and nauseating. Suddenly, he can’t bear the thought of another having you. Not Voldemort. Not anyone. “No one is allowed to touch what’s mine.” The threat of his words hangs in the air, but you look relieved. “You…You mean you’ll keep me here with you?” He hadn’t realized he had said that aloud. Honestly, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. All he knew was that the only hands he wanted on you were his. “Is that…something you’d want?” You smile bright, brighter than the summer’s sun. “Nothing would make me happier, Master.” As beautiful as you are, and as lovely as it sounds to have a warm cunt to bury himself in each night, the cold blade of reality cuts through. “Listen to me, there are still many things we’ll need to discuss—”But you aren’t listening because you’re too busy crawling into his lap. You straddle him and nuzzle your face into the side of his neck.

“Thank you, Severus,” you whisper against his skin, melting against his body as you make yourself comfortable.

No one has ever thanked him in his entire life. He isn’t sure how to handle it.

The longer you lay against him, the more a warmth blooms inside his breastbone.

He can’t deny how good it feels to have you close.

Things can’t be this simple can they?

Nothing in his life had ever been simple.

You let out a small sigh, seemingly starting to fall asleep while sitting up. It tears him from his thoughts and instead has him worried about your comfort. He shifts and lays down on the bed with you still tucked into his chest.

He had no way of knowing if this would work, but bloody hell did you fit perfectly against him.

Years of tension seemingly start to melt away as sleep threatens to take him over.

Voldemort had given you to him for being his most loyal Death Eater.

And while nothing could be further from the truth, Severus Snape can’t help but think.

This was the best damn present he’d ever received.

#lady in writing #Severus Snape #severus x reader #severus snape smut #snape fandom #professor snape #alan rickman

[yuellii]

“ ooo, you wanna kiss me so bad! ” — furina / gn reader

There was something about the way this was easily the happiest she’s felt since she left the Palais.

It was mostly endearing, really (at least, she hoped it was), that you brought her mouthfuls of macarons and cake to stuff into her face like a woman starved of such a delicacy; though, she can’t help but plead a tad of gracelessness from the way she lived her life nowadays, barren of luxury in this small apartment.

She squealed happily, even so. “Oh, how I miss the Palais’ cooking!” she reveled in delight.

“Well, when you’ve been consuming nothing but macaroni these days, Lady Furina…”

“What?” she almost snarls defensively. Her cheeks flare red in embarrassment. Perhaps you didn’t fancy the bare basic, messy life she was showing you now… “Macaroni is good!”

You moved carefully, her eyes following your hands as they poured her more tea. “It is, my lady,” you didn’t deny. “But I can’t imagine you going a day, much less weeks, without something sweet for dessert.”

She almost crumbles from humiliation from that. Though you ( probably, she once again hopes ) did not mean your words in any insulting magnitude, there was no denying the shame she felt prickling at the corners of her eyes, nor the sharpness welling at the back of her throat. It was purely mortifying to have someone as special you think of her that way—her, as some spoiled, immature, strictly-sweet dieted bratty archon.

“Well…” she stutters out. She notices as your movements suddenly hesitate—perhaps there was something in her voice you’ve never heard before.

( And there was, truthfully so. There was a inkling of disappointment stemmed from a certain sadness you’d never imagine to hear from the all-magnificent, all-showcasing Furina de Fontaine. )

“Well, what you’re imagining is the archon you once knew,” she simply concluded, albeit quietly so. “Not me.”

There is a silence that ensues for just a moment; and curse her tendency to overthink, for now she was sweating over the way you thought of her. Perhaps it will finally hit that you pretty much knew nothing of her at all, and maybe then, you’d leave her alone. But she prayed that didn’t happen—once she’s gotten a taste of your company, she couldn’t quite let that feeling of companionship go. And… whatever other feelings came alongside it. But she could ignore that part of it, for now.

“That’s…” you started, and she tensed visibly, “true.” You pick up a red colored macaroon. It’s raspberry flavored. “I don’t know you, but I’d like to think that Furina also has a liking for sweets, if that is correct?”

She almost shivers when you say her name. No title, no formalities, just… her name. It sounds sweeter than the treat in your hand.

What more when you lift up the macaroon so delicately between your fingertips, and when your body leaned in. Her breath is practically caught in her throat when you press the edge of the macaroon gently between her lips, and it takes all of her brainpower just to open her mouth to bite it. Oh Archons, you just fed her… so improperly, too, like as a friend rather than a servant. She can feel her heart hammering painfully at her chest as her mind is screaming when her lips accidentally brush against your thumb—why is the surface area of this macaroon so small?!

Feeling embarrassed once more, she quickly snatches the rest of the bitten macaroon out of your hands so she can take the second and final bite on her own.

“Just Furina who still likes sweets…” she pondered aloud after chewing. “That’s… That’s right!” She brightly smiles to herself, “As I am a common civilian of society now, I know not to waste food on the table!” She talks quickly to attempt at quelling the redness on her face, though she does not know how well that is working. Her eyes frantically scan the table for any hopes of a conversation diversion, and they land on the plated cookies right in front of you. “And in any case, you look like you aren’t interested in eating, anyways—can I have your cookies?”

“All yours,” you wave off, and she visibly grows excited as her hand darts out in front of you. “Just don’t take the shortbread— Furina!”

She grabs the only shortbread cookie left on the platter with a force so strong it almost breaks it in half. And all the while, there is a sparkling mischief in her eyes. She knew this brand of shortbread cookies were your favorite—and she watched as they were the only thing you’ve been eating this whole time. And to make matters more infuriating? You knew she didn’t even like them!

Now, Furina definitely did not expect you to be so passionate about your shortbread to the point where you would dive forward to collide with her body, and reach your hand to grab the cookie before she put it in her mouth. Even as she sat up, there was a certain childish silliness in your expression that you’d never shown her before—one that made her heart throb so painfully hard she… accidentally comepletely ate the cookie she was supposed to only tease you with.

Oops.

“Furina!” you whined, visibly pouting as you leaned back. “I was saving that one!”

And here she was, sitting completely flustered ( and maybe a little lovestruck ) at your exchange. So, she does the only thing she knows how to: she talks.

“First you feed me,” she begins to blabber. “Then you try to steal a cookie that was already in my mouth—” Where was she going with this again? She thinks she might be staring at your lips a little too long right now; she lost her train of thought. “Your fixation on my lips means you want to kiss me, oh my Archons!”

She looks away once your expression changes, not wanting to deal with that just yet.

“You want to kiss me sooo bad, you look stupid trying to—”

…

“If you could just shut. Up.”

…You just kissed her. The words you just said, so deeply mean and informal, did not even register; because before you even said them, you just kissed her. Mouth agape, she feels sick—Did that really just happen? Did you really just—?

“Furina?” you called, shaking her shoulder from the side. “Furina, are you okay?”

“You idiot!” she yelled, turning and grabbing both your hands in hers. The color red was washed all over her face, coating her entire expression in flushed embarrassment as she stuffed the warmth of her face in your balled hands. “That was my first kiss, you’re so mean!”

She couldn’t even think right now, heart pounding wildly against her lungs as her mind searched—searched to remember the feeling of your lips against hers. Oh good Gods, she felt sick. Sick, and starved, and desperate, and delusional, and downright drowned in her own doom. This was so humiliating. She kind of just wanted to die in front of your hands right now.

“You’re the one who stole my cookie, and then kept teasing me!” you exclaimed back, freeing your hands to gently grab her face between them. She pouted into your hold, eyes closed before they could brim with tears from embarrassment. “If kissing you made you stop—?!”

Two could play at that game when Furina herself leaned in now to kiss you, leaving your hands hanging in the air behind her as her own hands moved to secure your face against hers, not letting you move.

A muffled “Furina—!” draws from your lips before she dives back in to her kiss, shutting you up completely just as how you did to her.

It’s pretty effective. She thinks she likes this way of getting you to be quiet.

this is my girlfriend she loves mac and cheese 👍 i’m really not the best with silly funny stuff like this but i tried </3 in the future, i really want to write furina in my style ! // not proofread

🕰️ // @definitelynotaneulasimp @ryuryuryuyurboat @naraven <3

#furina x reader #furina x you #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin women x reader #furina x y/n #genshin fluff #genshin x gender neutral reader #furina

[lilibethwrites]

Head that Wears the Crown

Aemond Targaryen x F!Targaryen!Reader

There is only one woman in the whole of Westeros who can get inside Aemond’s Targaryen’s head. On the night of Aegon II’s coronation, Aemond’s beloved wife, Y/N Targaryen is not happy with who wears the crown, and she seduces her husband into making a move that might change the order of succession in a mere turn of the moon.  

Warnings: smut, incest  

A.N: Reader is Rhaenyra and Daemon’s daughter and married to Aemond. This is somewhat darker than what I usually write, but it’s also something I’ve been meaning to write while I’m still working on the requests I’ve received.

Word count: 1958

You were at the Dragonpit earlier, standing tall and proud with your husband by your side as Aegon was crowned as the true King. Within you, however, the fire of a dozen dragons burnt bright and tall. The same fire also burned inside your husband as he grunted and scoffed, your hand in his was squeezed to the point of discomfort—pain, even, as he tried to restrain himself.

 It should have been you. It should have been Aemond. The legacy of Aegon the Conqueror was insulted when his crown was placed upon the head of the disgraceful, reproachable man you had the displeasure of calling your brother-in-law.

 And Helaena? Old Gods and new had to band together to save your family from doom if she were to rule alongside her brother.

 What you devised required a clear head on your part and Aemond’s both to blossom. You allowed him to take a flight on Vhagar to clear his head, and spar with Ser Criston afterwards until his arms and knees threatened to give out.

 Then you knew where to find him as if you’d placed him there by your own hand. In the new, spacious bedchamber in addition to yours, gifted to you as Aegon and Helaena vacated it. You suspected it was a consolation gift from Alicent. A mere room for the Seven Kingdoms.

 The room was spacious. The floor was tiled with veiny marbles imported from Dorne between smooth stones and the walls were covered in rich tapestries; and it was dark, illuminated by what seemed like a dozen candles and the fire from the fireplace alone. In the middle was a tub partially obscured by a silk curtain left ajar, and within it was Aemond with his arms hanging out on each side, his slender fingers drumming on the side of the cold tub with a servant carefully scrubbing his broad shoulders.

 Your entrance did not go unnoticed, and you relieved the servant of the frightful duty. She had heard the tales from other girls who’s heard them from others: Aemond was cruel and short-tempered. He’s beaten and maimed people on a whim. On an evening like this in particular, it was easy as a pie to get on his nerves.

 “Leave us,” you ordered, and she set down the rag and scurried away eagerly. Aemond’s face was turned away from his Princess wife, you, and towards the fireplace that extended all the way up to the high ceiling. It gave his face a soft tinge of warmth, he almost looked less intimidating.

 “My love.”

 Only a hum.

 You took a fluffed-up pillow from the bed and kneeled on it beside the tub, to which Aemond finally turned his head. You only hoped it was washed thoroughly. Even through heavy stockings, you were revolted to kneel on only Gods knew what touched before. Knowing Aegon, it was nothing decent.

 “What a day we’ve had,” you whispered, dipping the rag in water.

 “Hm.”

 You began with his arm, scrubbing gently and slowly before moving up to his shoulder, following the muscular curve of it in circles.

 “Talk to me, husband,” you whispered again, much closer to his ear this time, and sealed your seduction with a kiss to his neck.

 From the way his chest rose and fell, you knew he was giving in to you.

 “Aegon is…” he sighed. Aemond shared your dislike for Aegon but his sense of duty and his commitment to his family tied his tongue. You, however, were also his family, and you were determined.

 “A drunkard and a charlatan, yes. Not at all the knight and the scholar you are. The heirloom of Aegon belonged to you and you alone, my love.”

 You dipped the rag into the water once again, this time rubbing his chest. He caught your heavy-lidded eyes and licked his lips like a man starved before a feast.

 “Aegon is the king, now. This is treason,” Aemond spoke through gritted teeth. The words of his older brother’s coronation were heavy on his pride and difficult to speak.

 “So be it. Then we shall hang together.”

 You trailed down from his chest to his abdomen. His muscles under your rag tightened. He could foresee your next move as with shaky breaths that bordered on sweet mewls and moans, you let go of the rag and pressed your palm on his skin.

 “Hand in hand in death as we are in life, my love,” your fingers travelled down a patch of light hair that led to his manhood.

 He was growing hard already and twitched in your palm when you gave his cock a light squeeze and a pump. Aemond’s hips shifted as he slid down the tub, his legs spread wider to accommodate your conduct.

His breath was heavier also, shaking with each up-and-down slide of your hand around his shaft and with kisses pressed to the corners of his lips.

 “Aegon cannot hurt you, love. No one can while I am around,” he grunted. His head was thrown back in pleasure though his eye was trained on your face still.

 “Mmm, husband. What would I do without you?” You purred in his ear, scratching with your words the spot that pleased him the most.

 Aemond wasn’t a man to be manipulated, but you were a woman not to be underestimated. Your hold over him was stronger than most knew. Perhaps even Aemond himself didn’t always know just how much of his decisions were placed in his head by his dear wife.

 “It was not right,” his lips loosened up between grunts as you picked up the pace with your strokes. “He—he should not have—” he stuttered between gasps and huffs.

 “We can make it right. My dear husband, we can make it right,” You could tell he was close. A hand on the curved corner of the tub clutched the marble so tight that veins on top of his hand and around his forearm popped up. He hissed through gritted teeth with each stroke you gave him from the hilt to the tip.

 He was burning up, too. When you pressed quick but wet kisses all over his neck and jaw, your lips felt as if you’ve kissed hot coals.

 “How?”

 You knew the signs all too well. You knew when to press on, and much to your husband’s dismay, you knew when to pull back. With a disappointed groan from Aemond’s throat, you pulled your hand out of the water and began slowly to loosen up the bodice of your dress.

 He watched you with a heavy-lidded eye and a heavier heave of his chest. The heavy silk of your gown slid down from your shoulders and bared your naked breasts to your husband. He cupped one, massaging and squeezing, desperate to feel more of you.

 Aemond’s wet hand raised goosebumps on your skin. There was the familiar, sweet building up of heat and ache between your legs, as well. You needed him just as he needed you. Though before you allowed yourself to indulge, the matter at hand needed Aemond to be resolved on a particular solution—and who better than you, his darling wife, to make it happen?

 You cupped his cheek and brushed your lips against his before sliding your tongue between his parted lips. It was more of a promise of things that might come, so you pulled back when his hand tangled in your hair to deepen the kiss.

 “There is a way, my love.”

 You had Aemond just the way you wanted then: panting and gasping, trembling, silently begging to be touched, to be inside you. Your thumb caressed his lips, and he watched you expectantly.

 “Though some might say it shall visit a curse upon us—”

 “You are asking me to… to—”

 “Not quite. Not a slit throat, or a sword through the heart. But… you do fly together occasionally. Above the clouds, above even where the Gods cannot reach you. If a dreadful accident were to happen…”

 “It would be—”

 “It would be the only way to ensure there would be no protests to your coronation,” your hand wrapped around his neck gently, your thumb stroking the vein that ran from the side of his sensitive flesh. You could feel the flow of his hot blood when you pressed your finger down on it.

 Aemond leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. If it wasn’t an immediate no, it was a yes. A reluctant one, maybe even an afraid one—and could you blame him considering the weight of what you just asked of him?— but it was a yes.

 Your hand dipped into the water and down between his legs again, and you started stroking his already-stimulated cock, this time to bring him to his peak.

 “Leave Helaena to me. I know you are fond of her,” Though the idea that Aemond was keen on her made it all the more alluring to do away with her in a more permanent manner, you had to tread carefully and make your calculations precisely. Your plan was as delicate as it was dangerous. If you turned greedy, it could collapse.

 “I shall ensure she disappears without damage. This, I promise to you, my love. But Aegon,” you squeezed him, and he reached down to grab your wrist, making your hand resume its movement.

 “Aegon must…”

 “I will do it,” he finally agreed to your plan. The hesitation in his voice was palpable, but you knew your husband to be a man of his word. He would do it if he promised he would.

 So you kissed him one more time as he guided your hand around his cock, only a few more strokes away from release. You didn’t resist when he bit your lip and swirled his tongue around yours.

 “I shall be the kinslayer to put a crown on your head, my dear, wicked wife,” he murmured against your lips. It took one to know one. And that was all you needed to hear, so you worked his cock just the way that he liked—the way that drew out ragged moans from his trembling lips.

 He came panting, chasing his pleasure with erratic and desperate jolts and rolls of his hips. You let him, and he fucked your hand until the last drop of his load.

 Aemond’s head was thrown back, his eye shut tight with tremors still going through his hips and groin. He only looked at you when he heard the rustling of your skirt on the stone and marble floor. He watched you—exhausted and having barely caught his breath— as you stepped out of your dress and joined him in the tub. Bubbled bath water splashed on the floor as you straddled him.

 “My king,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and his breath hitched in his throat. If he wasn’t convinced of the plan before, hearing the words from your mouth certainly sealed the deal for him.

 “My cruel, cruel queen.”

 “Only to our enemies, my love. Only to those who would do nought but menace to us.”

 “Oh, whatever would I do without you?” Aemond teased, mockery laced with playfulness. You could let him entertain any notion he liked as long as you got your wishes.

 He was growing hard under you again with each roll of your hips. As his head bowed down to take your nipple in his mouth, you guided him inside you.

 A shared moan escaped your lips as he filled you to the brim and your walls fluttered around him.

 “Don’t—don’t stop,” he pleaded.

 You had no such plans. Not for the night, nor for the future.

  Aemond Tag (let me know if you’d like to be added to it):

@cherishedauthor @schniiipsel @verycollectivecreator @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @aemcndtargaryen @m1ndbrand @iorveth-scoiatael @let-love-bleeds-red @imakeangelscry @midnightindiewolf @queereddie @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @nighttwingg @mllemarianne @lomllino @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mirandastuckinthe80s @loverandqueenofdragons @fultimefangirl @lenasvoid @leilani788 @theekinslayer @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @m00n5t0n3​ @paprikaquinn​ @dearbaji​

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon

[bunny-yan]

Can we get a glimpse inside the yandere kings head while he vehemently tries to convince himself he’s still sane

yan!king x gn!reader TW: victim blaming, general yandere themes, violence, mentions of death, threats, implied non-con, abs no minors :)

—

It was love at first sight. 

From the minute you bowed in front of him, introducing yourself as one of the servants that would be taking care of him, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. 

His eyes would watch you as you did simple tasks, following you closely.

Dusting every nook and cranny of his room, serving him breakfast, lunch, and dinner, even preparing baths after helping him undress and redressing him after. Those were his favorite moments. 

The feel of your skin against his. He would lean and shift in order for another chance to feel you touching him. But it wasn’t enough. 

He suspected it was just passing interest initially. 

Servants bringing their children in to train them to eventually take their jobs was common and the head butler was no different. He reasoned that maybe it was just interesting to see how different you were from his father’s cold, uptight butler. The more he watched you, the more he realized that you were nothing like your father. You were quiet, sure, but you held a gentleness your father lacked. Whenever he called your name to get your attention, you smiled at him with a warmth he’d never seen before, melting the frozen barriers around his confusion. 

His heart would beat whenever you walked in the room, he’d find his eyes watching you wherever you went, he wanted to spend more time in your presence as each day passed by. This was more than just a passing fancy. 

He was in love. 

It had to be love. It encompassed everything he felt when he laid eyes on you. Swirling emotions begging to erupt anytime you can near, he finally began to understand the four letter word that the world seemed to be obsessed with. 

Gone where the dreary days he lived for the sake of the kingdom, you’d given him purpose. A reason to be alive. He lived to see the light dancing in your eyes, but gone was the warmth he didn’t realize he’d begun to crave. It was replaced with wary, nervous glances, eyes hidden with a bowed head that pierced the floor. You made yourself small, perhaps to hide from the heavy gaze that began to feel like an unforgiving burden. 

He had gotten ahead of himself. 

He had expectations of overflowing warmth at his heartfelt confession, but surprised eyes that looked away from his happy ones with uncertainty caused cold unrest to rage inside of him. He didn’t want to give you the chance to say something you didn’t mean. Each time he imagined telling you his feelings, you gave him a wide smile before throwing your arms around him and accepting him gratefully. 

It didn’t happen like that. 

Why didn’t it happen like that?

Why did you avoid his gaze, refusing to look at him‽ 

His hands grabbed your face, kissing you feverishly before you could finish the damning sentence you began. 

In shock, you took a step back, but the arm he snaked around your waist dragged the both of you down as you lost your balance. 

It was the first time someone asked him to come to his senses. 

All he could do was laugh as he kissed your skin, hands creeping underneath your shirt as he told you that he was perfectly sane. If anything, he said as began to unbutton the shirt you were wearing, ripping it in his impatience, it felt like it was a dream for him to be flooded with so much happiness. He whispered against your skin that he could only imagine how you would feel underneath him or how your skin would taste as he brushed his lips across every surface he could see and now that he was finally getting to experience it first hand it felt surreal. It was a dream come true. 

But from the way you looked at him, he would’ve mistakenly believed that you were in a nightmare. After pulling on what little clothes you had left when he was done, you fled from his room before he could say a word. 

He understood that he was at fault for ruining your clothes, but you had to have known that he was going to replace them. They were easily replaceable, nothing that should’ve warranted you getting as upset as you did. Remembering the tears in your eyes, he brushed a hand through his hair as he pushed down the urge to chase after you. He didn’t want to stop until he memorized the taste of you, but he could admit when things got a little out of hand. 

He hadn’t expected to lose control of himself. He initially planned to confess and court you with intentions of making you his queen, but not everything went according to plan. 

He didn’t plan to confess that day, but after seeing how friendly you were with the other servants in the palace, he thought it urgent to make his feelings clear. 

He didn’t plan on you hesitating after his confession, brushing it off as shock from the happiness you felt at finally getting a chance to be with the person you loved. You’d rise above your station and others would gaze upon you with envy for gaining this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 

He didn’t plan for your to ask you father to be relieved as his companion. 

It was then that he realized that you had a wicked sense of humor. It wasn’t that you wanted to get away from him, no. 

You must’ve known that it was never going to happen, otherwise those words wouldn’t have dared to come out of your mouth. Not when the two of you shared such intense feelings, no. You were just playing hard to get. He convinced himself that you just wanted to be sure of his affections for you, and he had no problem with assauging your fears. He would show you just how faithful he intended on being. You just liked telling silly little jokes. 

And you told them often. 

You didn’t want to serve him anymore, the way he watched you made you feel uncomfortable, you didn’t like it when he touched you. It was all ridiculously hilarious. So he decided to tell a silly little joke of his own. 

For every “no” that came out of that pretty little mouth of yours, you could kiss one of your family members goodbye. 

It still made him smile to this day thinking of the stupefied expression you wore. The look of panic in your eyes was thrilling to see as he backed you against the wall. Hands landed on your waist and he was more than happy to indulge in the little game you wanted to play. 

“Stop, your highness.”

“That’s one.”

His thumb swept underneath the shirt you wore, stroking your skin slowly.

“Your highness, I don’t-”

“Two.”

Leaning closer he used one his hands to push at the collar of your shirt as he nipped at your collarbone. You were restless, attempting to shift your body away from his touch, but he followed you. You were caged between the wall and his body and he had no intention of letting you escape. 

“Your highness, please.”

You sounded exasperated, worry beginning to creep in your tone and your fear only got worse when he backed away to give you a smug smirk. 

“That’s more like it. I was beginning to think I would have to ask you who you wanted to go first.”

He didn’t expect that he would have to go through with his threa- with his joke. It was supposed to be funny. Something to look back on and laugh about. Instead he discovered your disappearance when you weren’t there to serve him the next morning. 

After asking the maids it was clear that no one had seen you and although he felt he was overreacting because there was no way you do something so incredibly foolish, the fear in his gut told him to order the guards to look for you. 

He couldn’t describe the pit that formed in his gut when you were found and dragged in front of him. 

Instead of a soft smile, he had to witness the look of tears streaking down your face after he slapped you in a fit of rage. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry. He didn’t think he’d ever been as angry as he was that day.  

It served to remind him of your first betrayal and it became an anniversary that made you increasingly cagey the closer it came. 

It was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous.

Lovers didn’t deny each other anything. If you loved him, you should’ve been happy to receive his affection. Grateful that he showered you in gifts and gold, attempting to please you with all that money could buy. Instead you completely changed. You tried to escape from the palace you’d been blessed to work in and it became clear when he had to drag you back that you morphed into a stranger he couldn’t recognize. 

You no longer smiled as you regarded him. You became cold and distant, reminding him more and more of your late father with each passing day. He didn’t want to put his hands on you, but you brought it out of him. Sure, he was expecting you to be upset with him after letting his anger get the best of him, but bruises healed. If scars remained from the cuts he inflicted, they would only be a testament to the strength of your enduring love, but your childish antics made it hard to this day. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen warmth in your gaze. Your eyes were lifeless, reflecting only the biting desperation in his own. Couldn’t remember the last time your voice called his name with what he knew was affection and care. 

He remembered when you would nag at him for trying to skip his lessons. The two of you were young then, but in all these years you were no stranger to putting up with the endless incessant demands to please him so why was he left trying to understand where he went wrong?

Why did you avoid him? Skulking about the palace, finding refuge in the garden or library when you belonged at his side. Why did you change? Your job was to make him happy. Why was he being punished for making it so there would no end of opportunities for you to do so?

Why couldn’t you understand that the longer you chose to act like this, the less control he would have over his temper?

Pain wasn’t a good teacher.

Even now, as you clung to him and pressed your bruised, tear-stained face to his leg to beg for forgiveness for your second failed escape attempt, he knew this version of you wouldn’t last for long. He would show his benevolent nature and you’d get complacent when your body forgot the pain it endured under his touch. 

“I’m sorry.” you repeated over and over again. Your body trembleded, wracked with pain from his incessant blows and fear that he wouldn’t stop. “I’m sorry. Please. I’m sorry.”

He looked at the bruises, familiar marks that seemed to increase each time he saw you. He never intended to put marks on your body, but you were stubborn. 

Annoying so. 

“How do you plan on making it up to me?”

You looked up into his narrowed eyes, hopeful that he was finally communicating with you, but your heart dropped when his hand came up to rest on your face, thumb sweeping across your bottom lip before pushing it down. It wasn’t hard to figure out what emotion was hidden underneath that cold gaze of his. 

“You’re going to apologize properly and then you’re going to make it up to me.”

“I’m, I’m sorry.” you said, choking down the spite in your voice as he momentarily pushed his thumb into your mouth, using it to press against your tongue. 

“You’ve said that. What are you sorry for?”

“For trying to leave.” you bit out, looking to the ground, but he deemed that wasn’t good enough. Yanking your head up, you winced from the sharp pain that erupted in your neck as you looked him in the eye. 

“And what else?”

You wracked your brain to try and understand what it was he was referring to.

“For-for running away and leaving you.”

“Apologize for forcing me to take time out of my busy schedule to teach you a lesson.”

The words were caught in your throat as you stared into his audacious eyes. 

“Do you think I want to hit you? That I wanted the guards to have to track you down? You need to show remorse for your little outburst or the next gift you receive is going to be a golden collar to show others that you don’t know how to behave.”

Biting back a harsh retort, you struggled not to look away from his as shame flooded through your body. 

“I’m sorry for making you teach me a lesson.”

“And?”

“...For making you hit me.”

“And?”

“For making the guards track me down.”

His expression softened as a small smile crept on his face. “Good.” he began softly, making you dread what you knew was coming next. “Now you get to make it up to me.”

He never intended to treat you with anything but love and affection, but if that meant he’d get more and more opportunities to teach you what it really meant to belong to him, he would put up with your antics. But only if he had to.  

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